you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)
by Tarafina
Summary: [Bratva AU] Felicity Queen sees only one thing when she looks at the Bratva: family. With betrayal around every other corner, she walks a minefield trying to keep hers safe while playing politics for the public. If you can get a seat at the table, you're as good as blood, but betray the family, and the consequences are deadly.
1. Prologue

**title**: you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)  
**category**: arrow  
**genre**: drama/romance  
**ship**: oliver/felicity  
**chapter rating**: r**  
overall rating**: nc-17/r  
**warning(s)**: graphic violence/brutality, coarse language, explicit sexual content  
**prompt**: bratva au  
**word count**: 3,828  
**summary**: [Bratva AU] Felicity Queen sees only one thing when she looks at the Bratva: _family_. With betrayal around every other corner, she walks a minefield trying to keep hers safe while playing politics for the public. If you can get a seat at the table, you're as good as blood, but betray the family, and the consequences are deadly.

**_you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)  
_**-novel-

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

**R**oy was beat. He slumped into the diner with his shoulders slumped and a strong need for the blackest coffee he could get. Taking a seat on a stool at the counter, he rubbed his hands over his face, wincing at the sting in his knuckles. Dropping his hands down, he flexed them, giving them a good shake, and grimaced at the cracked and bloodied skin. It wasn't his first time in a fight, far from it, and this guy had it coming. The Glades were a rough place. Everybody was a target down there. And women especially were treated like third class citizens, beaten or raped by any thug who saw a victim. Roy wasn't okay with that. Sure, he was a thief. He'd taken purses and wallets more time than he could count. But he took it from people who could afford it, and taking a few bills didn't hurt them too much. He was a survivor, he had to be, and so he did things, things he wasn't always proud of but had long ago convinced himself weren't too bad in comparison. He never hurt women, never hurt anyone weaker than him, and when he saw others doing so, he got into the way. Maybe it was just his way of keeping hope that the world could be better. That, despite everything he'd seen, there were still good people out there willing to make an effort.

Gladys swung by, smiling at him tiredly. She leaned one plump hip against the counter and raised a drawn-on eyebrow. "You wanna coffee, honey?"

"Yeah, please, Gladys. Thanks."

She winked at him before she left, pouring him a hot cup of coffee and returning with a slice of blueberry pie too. "On the house, Sweet Cheeks," she told him, before bustling off to look after someone else.

Roy half-smiled, wrapping one hand around the coffee mug just to let the heat sink into his skin, while grabbing up a fork and scooping up a bite of pie.

Time ticked by slowly, the low murmur of a television buzzing in the corner by the register mixed with the clatter of forks on plates. If he closed his eyes and listened a little harder, he could hear the radio playing in the back for the cook and the scrape of his spatula on the grill. It was soothing in some ways; a constant flow of white noise, the smell of coffee and greasy food on the air. The familiarity of Gladys' too strong perfume and the knowledge that Abe, who Roy was pretty sure lived on the stool three down from him, was, and always would be, right there, reading a newspaper.

Sipping at his coffee and eating his pie, Roy sunk into the sense of comfort, ignoring the way his knuckles still ached and that in twenty minutes he'd have to head back out, make his way through the grittiest parts of the Glades to get to his shitty trailer where his mom had skipped out on him months earlier, leaving nothing but a coffee tin he'd kept a wad of cash in, empty on his bed.

There was noise, a rustling, before a body sat down beside him.

Roy didn't pay it much attention, even as whoever it was called Gladys over for a cup of coffee and, "whatever pie he's got there too, if you don't mind."

It wasn't until—

"You got it, Detective."

—that Roy stiffened. His hand stilled in cutting off a slice of pie with the side of his fork, but, worried that might look suspicious, he continued through with it and scooped the bite into his mouth. He ate his pie slowly, pointedly not looking at the man next to him. He'd pocketed two wallets today, neither of which he had on him since he took the cash and tossed the cards and ID elsewhere. Still, even not having evidence on him, he worried that maybe one of the guys he grabbed them off of had ID'd him somehow.

He sipped at his coffee slowly, glancing at the clock periodically, wondering, with each passing second, if he could leave without looking suspicious yet.

The Detective finally finished his pie, wiped his hands with a napkin and balled it up in his palm.

Roy was almost down to nothing in his coffee cup and just reaching back for his wallet to leave Gladys some money. She always said it was on the house, but he didn't want her getting into trouble on his account. And he definitely didn't want the Detective next to him to start accusing him of not paying his bill.

Taking a drag from his coffee, the Detective licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Roy, right?"

Roy went still, his heart quickly plummeting to his stomach. Dread quickened through his veins and he considered what his chances were of getting out of the diner before the Detective could grab him. But, chances were, if he knew his name, he had an idea of where he lived, which meant that running would only get a 'resisting arrest' charge added to whatever else they were looking at him for.

So, with a sigh, he looked back, a resigned, irritated look crossing his face. "Yeah?" He arched an impatient eyebrow, waiting for the Detective to turn smug.

"Calm down, kid, I'm not here to arrest you," he said, with a snort.

"No?" Roy looked him over suspiciously. "What do you want then?"

The Detective stared back at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. He was older, somewhere in his forties with black stubble and dark eyes, heavy brows furrowed over them in a perpetual sign of frustrated irritation. He looked like something right out of a TV show; grizzled and worn down by the decaying nature of the city he was supposed to protect.

"_Help_," he said, looking up at Roy. "You interested?"

Roy would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. But in a place like this, curiosity could get a guy killed, and talking to cops wasn't the best route to staying alive. In the Glades, he'd learned to keep his head down. He intervened when it was necessary, but he wasn't a snitch. Never had been, never would be. He'd done his own share of fucking up, and if he started playing judge and jury to everybody else, where did that leave him?

"I don't think I'm what you're lookin' for, pops," he answered with a smirk. Pushing off the stool, he pulled his wallet out, dropped a five on the counter, and turned to leave. "Thanks, Gladys," he said as he went, pulling his red hood up over his head and tucking his hands into the front pocket before he shouldered his way through the diner door.

He was walking down the sidewalk, head bowed and eyes on the lookout when the Detective caught up to him, a little breathless, like any smoker was after a short jog. It was probably a good thing the guy was a detective and not a street cop.

"You don't wanna hear what I need help with before you turn me down?" he wondered.

"Doesn't matter what it is," Roy dismissed. "I've got nothing to say."

"Look, kid, I'm not asking you to tell me what your neighbor's got his hand in, all right? I'm thinking something a lot bigger than that."

Roy cast his eyes around, worried about who might be seeing him walk down the street with a Detective at his side. "I'm not your guy, now can you leave me alone?"

The Detective was quiet for a moment. "Worried about your reputation?"

Roy sighed, quickening his steps.

The Detective kept time with him. "What if I told you that if you helped out, you'd get your record expunged?"

Roy pursed his lips.

"Sure would open a lot more doors for you, wouldn't it? I know you've applied to a few places downtown, trying to get yourself out of the Glades, but as soon as they do that background check…" He whistled. "You go to the bottom of the pile, if not straight into the trashcan."

A muscle ticked in Roy's cheek, his teeth clenched tight.

"Clean record, new start. You tellin' me you're not interested in that?"

Roy let his words rattle around in his brain for a moment, a clenching in his gut that told him he did. He absolutely wanted out of the Glades. But his record kept shoving him back into it. Nobody wanted to hire someone who had a history of theft; it didn't look good and they had no reason to trust him. He got that. But all he needed was one good hand up and he'd be gone, out of the slums and on his way to something better.

Taking a deep breath, he tipped his head back and glanced at the Detective, hesitant to show any real interest. "What kind of help are you looking for?"

The Detective smirked, and then paused in his steps, forcing Roy to do the same. When he was sure he had Roy's full attention, he said, "I'm not interested in small fish. Think bigger. Think _Bratva_."

Roy's eyes widened before an incredulous scoff left him. Quickly, any flare of hope died. "Right. Thanks for nothing," he snorted, before turning on his heel to walk away, shaking his head.

"Listen, I know it sounds impossible. You think I'm going into this with some half-cocked plan? I've been planning this for a while. You do this, you got a free pass to do whatever you want with your life. But hey, if you wanna stay down here and _rot_…"

Roy stopped. His eyes darted along the pavement beneath him as he considered what he was saying, and then he shifted his feet and turned to look back at him. "I'm listening," he said.

The Detective smirked. "Good. Then let's take this somewhere with fewer ears."

* * *

**…**

* * *

**D**etective Lance, as he finally got around to introducing himself, apparently meant his own run-down apartment when he suggested they find somewhere better to talk. Roy was pretty sure it probably looked nicer without the stacked boxes of files pressed against any given wall. Papers and candid snapshots covered every available surface. Obviously, he was more than a little obsessed with the Bratva. And, since it was following him home, Roy didn't think it was professional so much as personal. He'd seen people like that, who let things get to them, fester away and take over their lives. His dad had been like that before he put a pistol in his mouth.

Uncomfortable, Roy shifted around, his eyes bouncing around the apartment nervously. Just talking about the Bratva put his hackles up. Screwing around with the mafia wasn't exactly on his to-do list with his life, not if he wanted to have a long one.

"All right, c'mere," the Detective said, waving him after him as he made his way into an office. Against the wall, there was a detailed hierarchy all put together with candid shots of each person to go with their names and station. "I'm gonna go over this quickly, so pay attention…"

Roy nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"First things first, there's three mobs currently running things here. The smallest of the three is run by Frank Bertinelli. He's getting a lot of heat from Stefano Mandragora, who's trying to move in and take over, so he's got his hands full. Next, we have the Chinese Triad, a drug cartel that take their orders from Zhishan. Lastly, and the one we've got are eyes on, are the Solntsevskaya Bratva. At the top of the pyramid is Anatoly Knyazev, he's the pakhan, think, uh, _Godfather_. Knyazev runs things from Moscow, so getting him on American soil is unlikely. Our real problem is the working unit he's got here in Starling; we're talking racketeering, drug trafficking, extortion, loan sharking, murder. The worst things you can think of, these guys got their hands in it, all right? At the head of the working unit here is the brigadier, the captain, that's Oliver Queen." Lance stabbed a finger at a picture of a man directly underneath Knyazev in the pyramid.

Roy recognized him well enough; Oliver Queen was one of a few billionaires that took up residence in Starling City. The Queen family had previously been one of the biggest employers in the city; the Steel Factory used to employ most of the people in the Glades. But then Robert Queen shut it down and, shortly thereafter, was killed in a drive-by that a lot of people chalked up to pissed off former employees. Ever since, the Glades had been sinking more and more into destruction while the Queens continued to live the high life with their multi-billion dollar company prospering.

"Prior to him taking over, there was talk that maybe Robert Queen had ties to the Russian mob, but we didn't have proof back then. Since he croaked and Oliver took over, things are looking a little clearer."

"If they're so clear, what do you need me for?" Roy asked, shrugging.

"Because. I need more than just a hunch and a few pictures. Oliver Queen surrounds himself with some heavy hitters, people that are trained to make sure he never gets his hands dirty, at least not in public view. And, tell you the truth, I think he's got more than a few people from my squad on his payroll." He shook his head. "Taking down the Bratva takes time, it takes resources and a lot of attention to detail."

As if trying to prove this to Roy, he turned back to the wall. "This, look—This here is Slade Wilson. Former Australian Secret Intelligence Service made mercenary. He's a trained sniper, martial artist and swordsman. He works as Queen's, uh, they call 'em _kryshas_, they're enforcers. This guy is brains _and _brawn, and he knows it. Next, here, we got John Diggle, retired ARMY Special Forces; sniper, hand to hand combat, and an expert military operator who speaks fluent Arabic. He's Queen's right hand man and bodyguard."

Roy could already feel information overload hitting him, but he took a step closer, examining the pictures of the two men in front of him.

"Next, we got Nyssa Raatko, she's a torpedo, an assassin. She's a trained martial artist, swordswoman and archer. Her favorite way to kill a mark? _Poison_. She's wanted on murder; a _lot _of it." His brows hiked meaningfully. "Never sticks around long enough for us to arrest her and the few times we got close, we came up empty, like she was tipped off..."

The picture of Nyssa was grainy, but the sharp eyes staring directly at the camera still sent a chill down Roy's spine. Beside her was a blonde woman, features indistinct.

Humming, he took a step back and cast his eyes around the larger picture. He paused at a photo of a blonde woman, smiling to someone just to the right of her. "Who's the blonde?" he wondered.

Lance stiffened, but then looked over, spotted where Roy was looking and relaxed. "What? You've never read a gossip rag? That's Felicity Queen, wife to the captain himself. She's an MIT graduate, got some big degree, certified genius or something. How she got tangled up in all this beats me. But she plays nice for the cameras and looks good on Queen's arm, makes him look more human, I guess. Probably just a media thing, to make the company look good. She's big on charity, humanitarian type, that kind of thing."

Roy nodded, casting his eyes away.

Lance waved his hand over the wall. "All of these people are Queen's inner group. You've gotta think bigger than just this wall; there's underlings, associates, uh, _shestyorka_'s all over the place. Like Roman Zakharov—" He pointed to a sneering brunet, a toothpick hanging from his mouth. "He's just been made into a _vory_, like a made-man, which is what you're going to do."

Roy frowned thoughtfully.

"They've got informants—" Lance pointed to a picture just under and to the right of Nyssa's. "This is Sin. She feeds information to the family through Thea Queen." He raised his arm and pointed to a pretty brunette's picture just to the side of Oliver's. "She's Queen's younger sister. She owns a club out in the Glades. Verdant. You might'a heard of it."

He nodded.

"Sin splits her time between trolling the streets for information and tending bar at Verdant. She's Thea's closest confidant. People've tried to turn her before, but she's loyal. _Stupid_, but loyal."

"All I'm hearing is ways you _can't _get these guys…" Roy sighed.

"No, what I'm telling you is that from an outside point of view, yeah, these people are solid. They're tightly knit. They rely on each other to keep one another safe."

"Okay. _So_…?"

"So the only way to bring them down is from the inside. You have to make yourself a part of their group and then topple the whole organization."

Roy swallowed tightly, and then shook his head. "No. No way."

"Look, kid, if I could do it myself, I would. But they know me, they wouldn't let me ten feet from the front gate. But you? _You _are exactly the type of person that would go looking for a chance to prove yourself in their ranks. You've got a record, you live in the Glades, you're a fighter and you've got a smart mouth. You'll fit right in."

Roy rolled his eyes. "This is suicide. You're telling me to sign up with the Bratva and _what? _Hope to hell they don't realize I'm a rat?" He waved a dismissive hand. "This is crazy. I'm out!"

He got three steps away before— "Four million."

Roy stopped.

"Four million dollars is how much the Queen family has, on site, in a safe. You help me take them down, I let you take every dime out of that safe, walk away, scot free."

Roy looked back at him, head cocked. "And I don't get a knock on my door a few months after they're locked away in prison? Telling me I'm on trial next?"

"Full immunity, wiped record, four million dollars. Take it or leave it."

Something that tasted a lot like hope crawled up Roy's throat then, nearly choking him. He nodded jerkily, even as a nervous part of him told him he was about to sign onto something far too big for him to fully take on. "Deal."

Roy knew, as Lance grinned at him, a manic gleam in his eyes, that he'd probably just signed his death warrant.

* * *

**…**

* * *

**A**cross town, a man named Marko hung, half-frozen, in a freezer, with meat hooks skewered through the skin of his back. Teeth chattering from the cold, Marko noticed that, if he strained his ears, he could still make out the noise of the patrons milling around inside the Gentleman's Club. But shouting, even if it were possible through vocal chords that burned just from breathing, would do nothing but draw unwanted attention. Even the hooks in his back no longer ached like they had; there was nothing but a dull, distant pain that let him know he was that much closer to death.

It would be a gift for him to die that easily. He knew that wasn't in the cards for him. The Bratva didn't take kindly to snitches, and he had done too much talking to too many ears. As if to remind him of his transgressions, they'd already cut one of his ears off, and stuffed it in his mouth as 'food for thought.' He'd spat it out as soon as they left, but the coppery taste still clung to his tongue.

As the metal door of the freezer banged open, he closed his eyes, begging for a miracle that would put him out of his misery quicker. Instead, he heard every pounding footstep as they came closer and flinched helplessly.

"I told you he was still alive," a thick, Russian accent noted, humor laced throughout. "Didn't I?"

"Didn't think he had it in him," another answered.

Slowly, Marko opened his eyes, wincing as his lashes pulled, having frozen together in the brief time he'd had them closed. Kirill and Nikki stared back at him, one smirking darkly while the ladder's expression was blank, and scarier for it.

"P-Please," he rasped painfully. "This is a m-mistake. I'd ne-never betray the family. You know that. You know _me!_"

Kirill tugged gloves out from his jacket pocket and slowly began to put them on. "We _do_ know you. We trusted you. The family is built on trust, Marko. When we cannot trust you, we cannot _keep _you. And if we cannot keep you…" He raised his head and peered into Marko's eyes. "Then we must set you free… _brother_."

Marko shook his head, opening up the frozen wounds on his back, and blood spilled down his chilled skin. "_Pozhaluysta!_ Let me speak to _Kapitan_. This is a mistake. _Yest' drugiye! YA skazhu vam ikh imena!_" he croaked. "Please! I can fix this."

"The _Kapitan _knows of your betrayal." Kirill stepped forward, drawing a long, silver knife out from a sheath on his hip. "What do you think, Nikki? The toes first, or maybe the fingers?"

"Tongue," Nikki said dryly, standing a few feet away, hands crossed in front of him, feet braced apart. "It's what got him into this problem in the first place."

"_Da_," Kirill mused, dragging the tip of his knife down Marko's jawline, leaving a thin wound behind, blood slowly pooling. "Good thinking." He took Marko's chin in his hand and smirked. "Hold still, _staryy drug_. I will bring this to the Captain as your peace offering."

Marko did not hold still; in fact, he struggled as much as one could when hanging, half frozen, from fish hooks. But, alas, his tongue was stripped from his mouth, carved out as Kirill whistled a jaunty tune, unperturbed by Marko's tears or his screaming. Blood spilled down Marko's chin, painting his chest, and pooled on the ground.

It was only the first of what Marko would lose— the other ear, his toes, his fingers, etcetera— in the end, before the light finally left his eyes, he was little more than pieces. He watched through hazy eyes as Kirill wielded his knife around like a spatula; as if he were a chef and this was his kitchen, with Marko as the main course.

Marko closed his eyes, and wished that the loss of his ears would mean he wouldn't have to hear the brutal sound of knife meeting flesh and bone. Alas, for a man with no tongue, he thought his screams said more than he ever had before.

[**Next**: Chapter One.]

* * *

**Translation**:

_Pozhaluysta! _\- Please!_  
Yest' drugiye! YA skazhu vam ikh imena!_ \- There are others! I'll tell you their names!  
_Da _\- Yes_  
staryy drug _\- old friend  
_Kapitan_ \- Captain

* * *

**author's note**: _I know there wasn't any Olicity in this, but it's meant to lay the groundwork both for Roy's motivation and for how dangerous the Bratva is. Olicity comes in next chapter though, so no worries on that end. Outside of Olicity, there will be numerous friendships, especially of the female variety, and, because it's AU, characters that wouldn't generally be involved are. See: Nyssa Raatko. Mostly because I love Nyssa and Nyssa/Sara. _

_Just a reminder that because this is a Bratva AU there will be violence and it will be brutal. I was watching a documentary on Russian prison tattoos and one of the men said that he killed with one hand and he forgave with the other. I like to think there's an interesting balance with the characters where the people you meet will be dark and unforgiving in many respects, but loving and protective in others. So, be forewarned._

_just a quick aside. this is my first jump back into writing for olicity in a very long time and I'm still feeling it out. please don't ask about updates for other stories because asking me makes me less inclined to write them. rest assured, everything will get its due, but for right now, I'd like to write what I feel like writing. _

_thank you all so much for reading! please leave a review!_

\- **lee | fina**


	2. Chapter One

**title**: you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)  
**category**: arrow  
**genre**: drama/romance  
**ship**: oliver/felicity  
**chapter rating**: mature**  
overall rating**: nc-17/r  
**warning(s)**: graphic violence/brutality, coarse language, explicit sexual content  
**prompt**: bratva au  
**word count**: 10,846  
**summary**: Felicity Queen sees only one thing when she looks at the Bratva: family. With betrayal around every other corner, she walks a minefield trying to keep hers safe. If you can get a seat at the table, you're as good as blood, but betray the family, and the consequences are deadly.

**_you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)_**

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

In the dining room of the Queen manor, a long, cherry wood table was dressed in a blood red cloth. Atop it were bowls and platters piled high with steaming food. Around this table, stood a family, hands linked together in solidarity. Not so much a prayer as a general recognition and appreciation was given for the bounty of food and the comfort of family and friends.

As each person took their seat, Felicity Queen unrolled her cutlery and looked on in affection as the people closest to her began to dig in. Slade and John were laughing robustly about something near the far end of the table, while John scooped a large helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. Across from them, Sara was sipping a glass of wine as she leaned against Nyssa's shoulder, smiling as her girlfriend whispered something against her ear. Beside them, was Thea, tapping away on her cell phone, chewing her lip in consternation, before finally rolling her eyes, and tossing her phone away. Raisa weaved around everyone, making sure they all had enough to eat, patting their shoulders and cheeks and encouraging them to have more.

This was Felicity's family. A squeeze of her hand drew her eye then and she turned to her husband, who was watching her with the same deep-seeded affection he had for six amazing years. Were there ups and downs? Of course. There was blood and chaos and death; entirely too much of it, in her opinion. But they had weathered through that, standing by each other's sides, hands bound together, and she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Felicity's family was not perfect. It wasn't without fault. And, by 'average' standards, these were some of the worst people to surround one's self with. But they were hers. The blood that wet Slade's swords, his calculating strategies to keep the Bratva running, were skills, not failings. The bullets John had fired, his level head and planning were well honed talents. Nyssa's unmet ability to kill anyone put in front of her, her cunning and strength, had served the Bratva well over the years. And Sara; confident, caring, and loyal Sara, who would take a bullet for anyone she loved without hesitation. On the less deadly, but just as sneaky, side was Thea. Shrewd, sarcastic, business savvy Thea, who, in Felicity's opinion, was quite possibly the best sister-in-law she could have ever asked for. Especially out of what was supposed to be a marriage of convenience up until the moment they actually met.

Which brought her to Oliver.

He raised her hand up and pressed his lips to her knuckles, a tender kiss that still, after all this time, made her heart skip a beat. She'd had no idea, six years ago, what she was getting herself into. She thought she had. She thought she had some vague idea of what and who awaited her. But Oliver had blindsided her. With his loyalty and his love, his compassion and protectiveness, his eagerness to prove himself, and his dedication to the family.

She loved him. Beyond anything she'd ever expected, beyond any measure of passion she'd thought existed. There were things in her life that she regretted, that she wished she could do over, but not this. Not him.

He rubbed his thumb over the gold band across her finger and a smile turned up the corner of his mouth. She raised her hand to his cheek, scratching her nails gently through his stubble, biting her lip when he shivered, his eyes meeting hers and a promising thread of desire warming them.

"_Yow!_" a cry could be heard from the end of the table.

Felicity turned, unsurprised to see Slade rubbing the back of his hand and frowning at Raisa, who was holding a serving spoon.

Felicity chuckled knowingly at his expense.

"Take more, share more, make up your mind," Slade muttered.

Raisa unleashed a torrent of scolding Russian, which had Slade leaning back in his chair and, eventually, lowering his chin a little in acknowledgement of his behavior. To show her he was sorry, he stabbed a fork into a spare slice of roast and placed it on Oliver's plate. "There. I'm sharing. Happy?"

Raisa gave a short nod. "_Khoroshiy mal'chik_."

"Not sure 'good' is the adjective I'd use. Or 'boy' for that matter…" He offered a toothy smile, to which Raisa gave an exasperated eye roll.

"All right, all right, enough of that. Let's eat!" John declared, scooping his fork into his gravy laden mashed potatoes and filling his mouth.

Felicity reached for the green beans being passed to her from Thea, spooning a few out onto her plate before passing it on to Oliver. Everything looked delicious. She filled her plate with more than enough and watched food and conversation flow between everyone, a warm tenderness filling her chest.

Reaching her leg out, she hooked her ankle around Oliver's and asked, "How was work?"

After taking a long gulp of water, he turned to face her better and started filling her in on the latest ups and downs.

This, right here, surrounded by everyone she loved, was why dinner was Felicity's favorite time of day.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Meanwhile, in a damp and dirty alleyway, between downtown Starling and Little China, Renshu Lin paced impatiently, taking repeated drags from his cigarette as his eyes darted around. He dug around in his pants pocket and pulled his cell phone out, checking to make sure he had the right time and place. Cursing, he realized his informant was ten minutes late and, despite having only gained reliable information so far, he was starting to feel more and more like he was being setup.

Just when he was ready to turn in the towel and get somewhere with familiar eyes, the click of boot heels met his ears. Ren turned to the mouth of the alley and blew out a breath of both relief and agitation. "You're _late_," he accused.

"Do you want the information or don't you?"

Ren snorted, but gave a short nod, his hands finding his narrow hips with impatience.

"Shipment is arriving tonight. Midnight, south side of the docks, you'll know it when you see it."

"Same as before?" Ren watched him curiously.

He nodded, fiddling around in his pocket until he came up with a pack of gum. He offered Ren a piece and shrugged when he refused, popping a slice into his mouth and chewing. "More guns. Some liquor mixed in, for the club. _Usual_."

Ren bared his teeth as he looked him over with suspicion. "If this is an ambush, I'll have your head on a platter."

He merely smirked back. "If it was an ambush, you wouldn't live through it."

Ren glared back, but, after a long moment's pause, reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a rolled up wad of cash. "Always fun doing business with you," he muttered, before readjusting his coat and walking past him, making his way out of the alley and toward the lights and noise of the busy street.

"And you," he said, preoccupied with his money. Tucking it into his pocket, he whistled as he left. Where some might feel a guilty conscience, he felt nothing. There was no conscience to be found, guilty or otherwise.

* * *

**…**

* * *

It was late, well after one. For most, the day was over, work was put away, and the comfort of a bed had long been fulfilled. Not for him. Dinner had long been put away and, in its place, Oliver had retired to his office to look over the paperwork he'd brought home with him.

Bent over the desk as he was, a crick had formed in his neck and the tense set of his shoulders was doing nothing to alieve it. Inhaling deeply, he scrubbed a hand over his exhaustion-stung eyes, a furrow digging a deep groove between his brows.

Queen Consolidated had more than enough work to keep him busy, forcing him up to all hours. It wasn't the first time he regretted not hiring someone to advise him on the more boring aspects of business, which, in Oliver's opinion, were _all _aspects of business. But this was his father's legacy and, while they didn't always have the best relationship, he'd long ago vowed he would do his best to live up to being as good a businessman as Robert Queen had been. Not to mention, as long as QC did well, so did the Bratva, and vice versa.

Still, after his eyes crossed for the third time in ten minutes, he blew out a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment and listened to the quiet hum of the house. The thick walls mostly blocked out the sounds of the others. Voices were muffled, but he knew, even at this hour, that men were clustered in various places, talking shop, keeping guard, eating in the kitchen or watching the security tapes. He imagined Raisa was telling some of them off for their poor eating habits while cooking up something good for them. They would argue, tell her she wouldn't have to, but like anyone who set foot in the Queen mansion, they were quick to appreciate everything Raisa had to offer.

When the door to his office opened, he didn't bother opening his eyes. He knew. The only person who would enter without knocking, besides Thea, was his wife. As she walked closer, the soft scent of her reached him, reassuring him that was exactly who had come to visit. He inhaled deeply, letting it settle him, sinking into his bones and relaxing every muscle, one by one.

Her knuckles brushed his cheek as she reached his side, and he leaned over, pressing against her hand. His fingers circled her delicate wrist, holding her close. She stepped closer, so her stomach brushed his shoulder, and scrubbed her free hand through his hair affectionately.

Six years.

Sometimes he marveled at how long ago it had been that Felicity walked into his life and turned it on its head. All it took was a smile, bright and genuine, her cheeks a little flushed and her lips the brightest shade of pink he'd ever seen. She was stunning. And, as far as he was concerned, he fell in love with her the moment their eyes met. The moment she shook his hand, her nails painted turquoise and bitten down to the quick. And her mouth, so quick to prove she was not as poised and perfect as he'd first expected of her, had rambled a mess of truths that were far too blunt for polite society. He'd enjoyed every refreshing second of it. He still did, even if it rarely happened in public.

Arranged marriages, marriages of convenience, they weren't uncommon for Bratva, nor were they all that uncommon among the elite, even if they came with a more PC label of 'the right fit.' Which was really just code for marrying within their class, to someone who would look good on paper if nothing else. It was all a matter of what looked respectable for the public eye. Keeping a squeaky clean image helped with business, and kept the police from looking too closely at things. Oliver couldn't speak for others on how their marriages turned out, but he could say that for him it had been the best experience he could ask for. Of course, he was completely in love with his wife.

"Cross-eyed again?" she asked.

He hummed in reply.

"If you're not careful, your eyes will get stuck like that."

He half-smiled, tipping his head back to look at her, admiring the way her hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves. She'd traded her contacts in for her favorite pair of glasses and her face was scrubbed free of make-up. "Would you still love me?"

Felicity smiled at him, and bent, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Crossed, missing, eye-patch, I'm all in."

"Eye-patch?"

"What?" She shrugged shamelessly. "Who doesn't like a good pirate fantasy?"

A low chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "Is that right?"

Biting her lip, she nodded. "Mmhmm."

Pushing his chair back from his desk, Oliver stood, turning to face her better. He reached a hand out, letting it rest at the curve of her waist, and tugged her forward, their chests pressed flat. A shaky breath left Felicity as her head fell back and she slid her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and linked them behind his neck. The peach, satin fabric of her robe was thin; it was one of his favorites, if for no other reason than how it draped across her figure. He reached a hand down and snuck it through the slit of her robe, letting his fingers skim across the soft, bare skin of her leg while his other hand slid up the lapel, knuckles brushing one pebbled nipple, before he tugged the neck loose and dragged the fabric down, baring one shoulder. He ducked, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck, his open mouth sliding down the slope of her shoulder.

"I might not have an eye patch, but I'd be happy to make another fantasy come true…" he told her.

"I've got a few."

"Name them." He kissed down her chest, the stubble on his chin scraping across her skin. Felicity shivered, arching her back, inviting the sensation as he peeled her robe open further and licked the top of one revealed breast.

"Have I mentioned I kind of like the business tycoon takes his secretary fantasy?" she wondered.

He raised his head, an eyebrow arched curiously.

"Of course, _I'm_ the CEO and you're my secretary in this scenario," she informed him.

He grinned. "I think they prefer 'executive assistant.'"

"See? You already know your part." She leaned up on her tip-toes and slanted her mouth over his, pushing him back against his desk.

Oliver caught her around the waist and lifted her up, turning so she sat in front of him, balanced at the edge of his desk. He stepped between her legs, parting them, and raising her knees up to his sides while his finger skimmed down her thighs, pushing the fabric of her robe apart and out of the way.

"Are you finished for the night, Mr. Queen?" she asked, looking up at him coquettishly.

He buried his face at her neck and suckled at her skin. "That depends. Have I fulfilled my duties, Mrs. Queen?"

"Almost," she breathed, reaching for his tie and pulling it loose. "I've got one more thing I need you to do and then you're free to go home."

"Is that right?"

"It'll take time, it's incredibly physically taxing, and it will take some _serious_ concentration, but I think you'll enjoy yourself."

Kissing along her jaw, he raised an eyebrow. "You have my attention."

"It could take all night, possibly some of the morning, but the compensation is _amazing_, if you're up for it." She tore his tie from his neck and tossed it away. Popping the buttons open on his shirt, she looked up at him, reaching a leg around his waist and pulling him in tight. "Do you think you're up for it?"

He nibbled at her bottom lip, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, and said, "I think I'm just the guy for the job."

"Mm. Good." She raised her hand in a check-mark signal and smiled. "_Hired_."

He laughed as he bent for another kiss, their mouths folding together while his fingers skimmed through her hair and cradled her head as he leaned her back on the desk, hips rotating as he pressed against her. He'd just reached down and was skimming his fingers up her thighs when there was a knock at the door, someone waiting on the other side of the door for a signal to enter.

Oliver sighed, frowning as he leaned back, sliding her robe back into place and readjusting his shirt and pants as he cleared his throat.

Felicity slipped down from the perch on his desk, smoothed out her robe, and turned. "Come in," she called.

The door opened immediately and John Diggle stepped inside, a grim look to his face. "Sorry to interrupt, but… we've got a problem that needs immediate attention."

Felicity smiled at Oliver over her shoulder and he knew that tonight, any fantasy would have to be put on hold.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"_Tā zěnme yàngle_?" Ren asked, breathless as he paced from one end of the room to the other, fingers plucking at the short, black whiskers of his goatee.

"_Dead_." Yanking the blue gloves from her hands, Guan-Yin Lin shook her head, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her forehead with her wrist. "You told me you'd stopped this, Renshu. I can't be cleaning up after you all the time."

"You don't just _quit_. You either_ die_ or you run and _then _die," he snapped, shaking his head. "This wasn't how it was supposed to be. None of this is. It was a simple job, that's all!"

"I'm pretty sure the dead guy on my operating table was thinking the same thing right before his eyes closed." She stared up at him searchingly. "What've you gotten yourself into? Huh?"

"I'm just trying to make things work, all right?" He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I get it! I'm the family screw up. I never should've signed up with these people. But we had bills to pay, and it was either this or living on the streets. What other options did we have?"

"There are always other options," she said, her voice quiet but heavy.

He raised his head and glared at her. "Don't forget who paid for you to get through med school, Guan-Yin."

She flinched at his tone, but then firmed her chin and raised her head. "I don't. Which is why I help you whenever you drag one of these people in here, demanding that I patch them up." She threw her dirty gloves toward a disposal bin and shook her head. "But I won't do it anymore."

When she turned to leave, he was in front of her in two strides, gripping her arm. "_Hey!_ I don't come here for kicks, all right? That guy was a friend of mine. He has a _family_." He stared at her searchingly. "I get that I'm not on your level. I never will be. We've all got our strengths and, you might not like it, but this is mine. I do what I have to."

"You fight and you kill and when someone dares do it back you get offended," she reminded him through gritted teeth. "You're a _thug_, Ren. And so is that man lying on my table. And don't _kid _yourself about friendship, because we both know that you'll drag him out of here, toast him in some bar somewhere, and forget his name. _Replace _him. Because that's all you ever do. You're all soldiers, faceless, nameless soldiers that do their bidding. Cogs in a machine that eats you up and spits you out. If you're lucky, you might make it a little longer, but don't feed me lines about it being _better_. Because one day, someone is going to drag you in here, bleeding out, and the only person I'll have to tell about your death is _me_." Yanking her arm free, she turned on her heel. "Get him out of here, and don't come back until you're ready to turn your life around."

Sighing, Ren scuffed his foot across the floor. "Guan-Yin!" he called after her. "_Bàituō!_"

She didn't look back and, after a moment passed, he finally turned, calling to his other men to come forward and help retrieve the body from the table in the surgical room. He wasn't willing to admit it yet, but his sister was right. She often was. But what she didn't understand was that this life had already caught him, and there was no going back.

There was, however, _retribution_.

* * *

**…**

* * *

When morning dawned, Oliver had only had a few hours of sleep; even after Diggle had filled them in on the Triad's latest attempt to steal incoming cargo down at the docks, getting any rest after had been difficult. He couldn't stop thinking of the repercussions, of who could be betraying the family, telling secrets to the enemy about specific shipment times, and, more than that, of what would have to happen when they found out who it was...

Despite how gritty his eyes felt and the weight of exhaustion laying heavy on his shoulders, duty called, and so did an early morning sparring match with Diggle and Slade. So Oliver dragged himself from the bed and crossed the room toward the bathroom. He took a quick shower, hoping the hot water would help him wake up, and it did, but it didn't relieve the weight on his conscious. After toweling himself off, he stood nude at the sink and brushed his teeth, his mind elsewhere.

When he returned to the room, Felicity was still blessedly asleep, her hair tied up in a lopsided bun, her robe hung up on the end, corner poster of their bed. The sheet had wandered down to her waist, showing off her bare back, and he found himself walking to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He started at the nape of her neck, dragging his fingers through the short, fluffy, loose hairs there. He traced his fingers down one shoulder, circled her arm, and made his way across her back. She wiggled a little, but it wasn't until she took a deep breath, that he knew she was awake. Her head turned, eyes half-lidded, and she smiled softly.

"Morning," she murmured.

He hummed, his fingers drawing circles down her skin.

Turning over onto her back, tangled up in the sheet, she gazed up at him, readjusting her head on her pillow as she reached a hand up and cupped his cheek. "You look tired."

"I _am _tired."

"You'll worry yourself into an early grave if you keep it up."

He shook his head, skittering his fingers up her stomach and laying his palm flat in the valley of her breasts. "I'm not going anywhere."

She searched his face, his eyes, for any uncertainty, and must have found none, since she smiled warmly. "You shouldn't worry anyway. It'll be taken care of."

"You know what the Bratva does to traitors."

Her jaw ticked, eyes falling for a moment. "I might not like it. But loyalty, keeping this family safe, it comes with sacrifices."

"And he knew that coming in," Oliver said, like a mantra, one he'd been telling himself all night.

Felicity bit her lip, and dropped her own hand to press to Oliver's heart. "How much do you love me?"

"Infinitely," he answered without pause.

"That's how I feel about you." She rubbed her thumb back and forth. "And if this person, whoever they are, has to die to keep our family safe… to keep _you _safe. Then, I'm sorry, but… that's a trade I'd be willing to make."

He nodded. "He puts us at risk."

"Come here," she said, raising her chin.

Oliver leaned down as she shuffled herself over on the bed. He dropped his head down to her chest, ear pressed to her heart. She combed her fingers through his hair and held onto him. "Are you okay?" she wondered. "I want you to talk to me about these things."

"I know." He turned his head and kissed her skin. "I am. I _will_ be." He closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around her arms, holding onto her, comforting himself. "I love you."

She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you too," she whispered.

If he believed nothing else, he believed that.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"You told me this would be easy. That they would never see us coming," Ren exclaimed into his phone, his lip curled in a sneer.

"It _was_ easy," the man answered simply, not the least bit ruffled.

"I lost a man!" Ren yelled, slamming a hand down onto his desk, causing at least one of the men crowded into the small room to flinch.

"That is the nature of the business. _Privykayte k etomu_. Your man was not quick enough, a bullet showed him this. Be glad, he must not have been very good to begin with."

Ren let out an angry, hissing breath through his teeth. "Don't speak of what you don't know. Because of you, I lost someone today. I'm in no mood for your bullshit. If I knew that taking your information would end in more bodies and no guns, I wouldn't have wasted my time on you!"

"Relax," he dismissed. "This is a simple set back. I have already thought of a plan to make things run smoother next time."

Ren let out a huff, but took a seat at his desk, fiddling with the tie at his throat. "I'm listening…"

* * *

**…**

* * *

The curtains were spread wide, letting in the early morning sunshine to dapple across the library floor. From the angle she was standing in, Felicity could see dust dancing mid-air, floating gently. She turned her attention back to the papers in front of her, comforted by the heat warming the nape of her neck, her hair tied up, intricately braided. There was a charity event she and Oliver were expected to attend tonight and she had her work cut out for her. Bumping elbows with the elite hadn't been on her to-do list, well, _ever_. After finishing MIT, she hadn't been sure quite what awaited her, but this hadn't been it. Still, she wouldn't say she was unhappy. Felicity's mother always told her that adaption was key; learning to fit in, to mold into the background was sometimes just as necessary as standing out. And if she needed to shake a few hands and put on a smile, she would, because it was for a good cause.

Star City General, or, more specifically, the children's ward of the hospital, needed this funding, especially if they planned on taking on the untreated kids that were clogging up the halls of Glades Hospital. The staff was overworked and the patients were overlooked. If Felicity could change that, she would. But if she was going to put well earned money into something, she wanted to know it was going to the right people, and the right cause. Which was why she was personally looking over the blueprints for the new children's ward that SCG wanted to build. As per usual, they would ask her or Oliver to speak on their charitable donation; preparing for that, knowing exactly how the money would be spent, was important to her. She knew Oliver would cut a check for any amount she threw out, but she wasn't putting any zeroes down just yet. She was still considering how much more beneficial it might be to have the Glades hospital fixed up instead. It would cost more, but if Queen Consolidated publically put their face in front of rejuvenating the hospital, it would be a great boost for business.

The double doors to the library swung open then, and a knowing smile turned up Felicity's lips.

"Having those curtains open like that makes you a prime target," Sara announced in hello.

"From what vantage point?" Felicity wondered. "Anyway, this is bullet proof glass. Digg tested it himself. And then Slade did. I think they had a contest, actually..."

"Yeah." Sara snorted. "I'm sure they pulled out all the big guns and compared them all afternoon long. Doesn't change the fact that if someone really wanted to, they could shoot through the wood paneling. The window is just a way to see where you're standing." Hands on her hips, Sara walked further into the room, smile playing at her lips. "Anyway, I didn't come here to bitch at you. Princess called, wants to see if you're up for brunch. I'm playing chauffeur."

Sara circled the desk to the window and took a long look at the expanse of rolling green hills that made up the Queen property, shrouded by tall brick walls to keep out any unwanteds. "I'm sure you've heard, but shipment was put off 'til this afternoon. Had some issues with delivery and they're trying to work out the kinks. Which means… Thea's got her morning free, and she was hoping you were up to hanging out with her. For the record, I think it's a good idea. You've been cooped up all week; it's time to get some air."

"I was getting sun a minute ago and you told me it made me a target. Now you want to go into town, mix up the variables?" Felicity smiled at her. "What's up?"

"Nothing." She sighed, walking over to lean a hip against Felicity's desk.

Felicity raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"When it becomes something, you'll be the first to know," Sara promised. "For now, let's get out of here. I want a buttery croissant and some good coffee. Thea's already got a place picked out. I tried to talk her into going to one of the protected shops, but you know how she is."

"She likes variety." Felicity shrugged. "Will that be a problem?"

"A complication, but not a problem. I had Kirill bring the car around, so we should get moving."

"Well, I can't say no to buttery croissants." Felicity rolled the blueprints up and put them away, leaving the cardboard pipe by the filing cabinet. "Have I told you about SCG yet?"

"You mean the donation they're trying to squeeze out of you?" Sara wondered, moving to stand just ahead of Felicity as they left the office and made their way downstairs.

Felicity didn't miss the way Sara's hand hovered near her hip, where a gun sat beneath the cover of her shirt. For all that the property was surrounded with Bratva men, it was Sara that always took up Felicity's security, and she wouldn't have it any other way. From the moment they'd met, there has been a connection, a trust there, and she hadn't doubted it since.

"That, and that they want us to speak at the event in hopes we'll encourage others to put up money too."

"That'll look good, won't it? On Queen Consolidated?" Sara asked, her hand smoothing down the banister of the stairs, eyes darting all around, constantly on alert, even in, what should've been, the safety of the house.

"Sure. If the money goes where it needs to. If it doesn't and that hits the papers, then QC will take a giant hit; they won't be credible. Anyway, I've been playing around with the idea of rebuilding the hospital in the Glades. It needs a facelift, obviously, but it also needs the PR if the neighborhood is going to change at all."

"Do we want it to change?" Sara wondered, brow furrowed. "If it cleans up too much, that'll be a hit to the _other _business."

"It'll be a hit to the Triad. They're the ones running drugs. And strung out worker bees don't work at all." Pausing by the closet, Felicity dug out a jacket and pulled it on, buttoning the front and tying the belt at her waist.

Kirill walked inside then, closing the door behind him and handing the keys to the car to Sara. "_Dobroye utro_."

"Good morning, Kirill." Turning to face him, Felicity smiled. "How is Margarita?"

He nodded. "_Ustali. Kapriznyy_. " He shrugged. "She says that her feet are large. _Swollen_. But they still look tiny to me."

"I'd keep telling her that," Sara said with a wink.

"_Da_," Kirill agreed. He reached for and opened the door to let them out, bowing his head in respect as they walked past him.

Felicity moved to the back of the car, tugging her white gloves onto her hands before she reached for the handle on the door. "Just us today?"

Sara snorted. "Cute. I have Nikki and Marat following. They'll keep their distance and blend in. But that's as close as you're getting to alone."

Felicity merely shrugged, climbing inside the car. When the partition lowered between the front and back seat, she wondered, "What time did Thea want to meet?"

Sara shrugged, shifting in the driver's seat. "Within the hour. You know how she is. She sets a time and then gets distracted with work."

Nodding, Felicity said, "I want to drop by City Hall, get a meeting with somebody about the Glades."

Raising an eyebrow, Sara let out a long whistle. "Just show up out of the blue? I like the chutzpa."

Her lips turned up at the corners. "Sometimes you need to demand attention. Oliver taught me that. Well, he reminded me. I think my uncle was the first one to drill it into me, but I was young and didn't understand what he meant at the time. Anyway, I'm only going to set up a meeting with someone. We'll see what happens from there."

"Whatever you say, Boss Lady." Sara grinned at her before revving the engine and pulling out from the brick cover. She glanced in the side mirror to make sure Nikki was following and then set off toward the tall, wrought iron gates.

Felicity pulled a tablet from her purse in the meantime and checked QC's stocks before sending off an encouraging text to her husband. She wasn't surprised when he replied seconds later; for all that he was the face of Queen Consolidated, he'd never quite fit into the suit and tie his father had left for him to fill. But Oliver did what he had to. He had his part to play just like all of them. The public needed an image to cling to lest they turn on them like rabid dogs; as long as they fit the part, cut a check, and smiled for the cameras, the status quo would remain. And, for all that Felicity complained her life was nothing like she'd expected, she sincerely wanted it to stay just as it was. Well, maybe with a few adjustments. Like a shiny new hospital in the Glades and a jump in support for QC.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"Harper!" a grizzled, accented voice demanded. "_Peremestite etot produkt vnutri_," he demanded, pointing from the full back end of a truck and then toward the warehouse Roy had spent the last six months in and out of.

"Yeah, yeah. You know, I've heard you speak English, so I know you just do this to piss me off."

Anton smirked at him, the majority of his teeth silver rather than white. "Smart boy. Too pretty," he mused, "but _smart_." He clapped Roy on the shoulder and then pointed to the truck once more, tucking a cigar into the corner of his mouth. "Move this to there. Easy. Yes?"

"You see how much is in the back of this truck? I can't do this on my own. Where's Viktor?"

"Taking a piss." He shrugged. "Who cares? You start, he'll help when he gets back. Now move. Anton does not have all day."

"Anton shouldn't speak in the third person either, but that doesn't stop him," Roy muttered, before hopping up onto the truck and getting to work. He never looked inside the crates that were delivered by truck, every three days, like clockwork. He simply did his job and never asked questions. He was too low on the ladder for that; asking questions would only get him killed. He didn't care how much Lance complained he needed results, Roy's first priority was keeping his head on his shoulders. His second priority was that 4 million dollars that promised a whole new life.

Finding a way into the Bratva wasn't actually the hard part. Roy knew people, he'd just actively avoided asking them where they were making their money. But now he had a reason to, now he could put it out there, carefully, that he was looking for some extra cash; he wanted out of the Glades; he was willing to do _anything_; and, eventually, someone bit.

Starting out in the Bratva meant he was a _shestyorka_, an errand boy. For the most part, he played lookout. He wasn't a part of any big decisions and rarely got a chance to even _see_ any of the people that were on Lance's wall. He got his orders, was told where to be and what to do. He figured if he did his job and kept his head down, eventually he'd climb the ranks, get himself close enough to learn what he had to. How much time that would take, he had no idea. He did know that he was getting paid; it wasn't much, but it beat stealing wallets.

Payday was always a handful of rolled up cash; no trail, no receipts, just cold, hard cash. The first thing he did was get his heat turned back on and pay his rent. Then he dropped by the diner, had a slice of pie, and left Gladys a nice tip. For the most part, Roy tried to pretend he wasn't in Lance's pocket and instead was just doing what he had to do to survive. Still, when he went home at night and crawled into his bed in his shitty little trailer, he couldn't help but dream of all the things 4 mill could get him.

At the very least, a less lumpy bed.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Thea rushed out breathlessly, tugging the scarf from around her neck as she weaved past a few tables to reach where Felicity sat, in a corner, somewhat separate from the others, the wall at her back. She had her tablet on in front of her, as per usual, and Thea merely smiled at her sister-in-law's predictability. "Traffic was killer," she explained, plopping down in a chair and nodding her chin in hello to Sara, who sat at a table next to them, sipping at a cup of tea and picking at a cinnamon bun while her eyes carefully scanned the room.

If Thea wasn't completely aware that Sara could kill her with her pinkie at any given moment, she might have taken her for any other average customer. But appearances were deceiving, as she well knew.

"I already ordered for you," Felicity informed her, eyes still glued to her tablet for a moment as she finished up what she was doing and finally turned it off. "There. It's off, I swear. No business until after food."

"How about after shopping? I was hoping we could get in a little extra bonding…" She wiggled her eyebrows hopefully. "Please? I've been cooped up at the club for what feels like forever. I need fresh air, or at least the calming sound of my credit card being maxed out."

Chuckling lightly, Felicity nodded. "Sure. I don't have anything on the books until two."

"Two, huh?" She nodded. "That gives me plenty of time to buy a whole new wardrobe."

Rolling her eyes, Felicity said, "What's wrong with your current wardrobe? Seems pretty trendy to me." She eyed Thea's current outfit with approval. "I like that scarf, by the way. Where'd you get it?"

Take a sip of her coffee, Thea hummed, "Mm, it's this cute little boutique a few blocks over. I'll show you when we're there. Hand woven. And soft. See?" She held the scarf out for Felicity, who fingered the fabric and nodded approvingly. "They've got a few things you'd like. Anyway, what do you have at two? Anton said my shipment would be dropped off around three. They're running behind schedule. I'm not too worried; we have plenty of time before opening."

"I've got a meeting at City Hall with a…" She frowned, glancing at Sara. "What was his name again?"

"Blood. Sebastian Blood," Sara answered, eyeing the door as the bell above it rang to signal that a new customer had arrived. "Slick politician type."

"Aren't _all _politicians like that?" Thea snorted.

"Some more than others," Sara muttered cryptically.

"Yeah, well, slick or not, he's been trying to build up a mayoral campaign on the back of the Glades and rejuvenating it," Felicity explained. "I wanted to talk to somebody about possibly getting the hospital back in running order."

"I thought you were going to write a check to the SCG tonight…" Thea said, frowning.

"I was. But I've been looking at their blue prints and I can't help thinking that the money really could do a lot better in the Glades… _So_, I'm thinking we'll still make a nice donation, maybe not as much as they wanted, but enough to help out. Oliver and I can campaign a little, get the rest of the one percenters to pitch in and help make up the difference for what we won't be donating. And I'll see what Blood can do about making Glades Hospital a priority with our backing."

"If he's as slick as Sara thinks he is, do you really wanna work with him?" Thea picked a chunk of her cherry danish off and popped it in her mouth.

"At the very least I can see if he has anything in the works. If he's not who I'm looking for, I'll find someone else." She smiled at Thea encouragingly. "Don't worry. I always do my homework."

"Some people are good at hiding the skeletons in their closet."

"Some, sure. But they've never gone up against me. If there's something to be found, I'll find it." She raised her coffee in cheers and winked at her sister-in-law before taking a long sip.

Snorting, Thea rolled her eyes. "All right, Fancy Fingers. Let's leave the business for later. Let's talk fun instead. We should start off with shopping and end with manis and pedis. All that walking, carrying bags, we'll deserve it."

Felicity chuckled. "Sure. I'm all yours."

"What about you, Sar? You up for a mani?"

"Think they have gunmetal nail polish?" Sara wondered.

"If they don't, we can find some."

"Deal."

* * *

**…**

* * *

By the time Viktor returned from wherever it was he'd been playing with himself, Roy had the truck half unloaded. Viktor didn't offer an explanation and, as much as Roy wanted to tear him a new one, he didn't. Viktor, despite also being a _shestyorka_, had been working for the Bratva longer than him, and had the advantage of actually being Russian behind him. Roy was of the rare few Americans that the Bratva allowed to work for them and, if he didn't pull twice his weight, he was more likely to be canned rather than taken into the fold. So he gritted his teeth and continued moving crates from one end of the long semi-truck to the other, his shoulders complaining against the strain and his back beginning to ache. He didn't utter one complaint.

They were nearly finished when a black town car pulled up. Roy paused, lips thinned and eyes darting. They didn't get visitors, not out here, and for a brief moment, he worried that it was a cop, undercover or on the take, either way. Instead, he watched as John Diggle stepped out from the driver's side, stone faced and buttoning the front of his black jacket, leather gloves in place. He glanced briefly at Roy and Viktor, and moved to the front of the car, waiting.

Anton appeared then, letting out a loud, boisterous laugh. "John_, moy drug. YA ne ozhidal uvidet' vas segodnya_."

Diggle nodded shortly. "Captain wanted me to check in, see how shipment's been going. I heard you had some trouble with the Triad last week." He reached out, gave Anton a good, stiff handshake.

"_Da_. But it is fine. They tried, they failed. They shot at us, we _hit _them." He grinned savagely.

Diggle's mouth pulled up on one side. "I appreciate that we came out alive, but with how often these guys keep hitting us, I'm looking at long term, and I'd rather we keep our guys out of early graves. What I'm concerned about is how these guys knew where and when our shipment was coming in." He crossed his arms in front of him, one hand clasping the other wrist. "Can't be too careful."

"Your caution is smart. Anton believes you may be right." He crooked a finger for Diggle to follow and then started toward the front of the truck.

Roy followed them with his eyes, but once they were near the cab of the semi, he couldn't hear them any longer. Trying to get closer would only draw attention, so instead, he did his duty, picking up the last of the crates and carrying it inside to put with the others.

Viktor, as expected, was talking on his phone in rushed, irritated Russian. What little of the language Roy had picked up didn't help him keep up, so instead he merely rolled his eyes at Viktor's pacing, letting Roy finish up their job. He stacked the crates against a far wall, left their tops on, and started back to the truck. Seeing that Diggle and Anton were still busy chatting, he hopped onto the end of the truck and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. Lighting one, he took a long drag, tipped his head back and closed his eyes, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he rolled his neck side to side and tried to loosen up the muscles.

He was just tossing the butt to the ground, when he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot.

Diggle came out from around the truck and turned in his direction. He gave a short nod, that Roy returned, and then continued to the car, climbing in and driving away.

Roy watched him go, his legs swinging, and then kicked himself up and off the truck.

Anton appeared then, pulling a wad of cash from the pocket of his jacket. "You weren't terrible," he said, thumbing off a few bills and handing them over. "Where is Viktor?"

"Bitching at someone on his phone." He nodded his chin toward the warehouse and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "Any chance I can get a ride into town?"

Anton snorted. "Does Anton look like a cab driver to you?" he wondered.

Roy rolled his eyes, and turned on his heel to start his way down the road. He paused, however, when Anton shouted after him. Looking back, he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"How'd you like to make a little more money? And get that ride into town too?"

Roy glanced away, and then nodded.

"We have another guy coming in. Roman. You heard of him?"

Roy frowned. "Yeah. We worked together a couple times." He bit his tongue on 'and I never want to again.'

"He'll be coming in with a different truck. You wait here for him. You'll load those up and deliver them to Verdant. It's in the Glades. A club."

He nodded. "I know it."

"You'll unload crates, keep your head down. _Da?_"

"Got it. Yeah."

With a short nod, Anton turned and made his way back to his truck, climbing in and taking off, leaving Roy to wonder if he'd just moved up the ladder.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Felicity was pretty sure the mani and pedi she'd indulged in with Thea and Sara was giving her an extra boost of confidence. Of course, she'd long learned to swallow back that burst of nerves that often resulted in an embarrassing ramble, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it tickle at the back of her throat. She couldn't afford to let it loose, however. She had an image to keep up, of the put together, poised, elegant wife of a billionaire businessman.

When Felicity was a little girl, the only dreams she'd really had for her future involved technology. She imagined creating; building something world changing. She supposed, in her own way, she _had_ built something world changing. And now she would be changing it even more.

Her heels clicked as she crossed the marble floors of City Hall, taking the elevator to the second floor and making her way to the front office of Sebastian Blood. His assistant, a frazzled young lady whose phone wouldn't stop ringing, quickly rose from her desk. "Mrs. Queen! I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Felicity glanced at her watch, wondering if perhaps she was early, but the long arm of her watch said she was five minutes late. She glanced toward Blood's office, where he seemed to be pacing a circle, waving his arm as he spoke to whomever was on the phone speaker. "Does he need more time?" she wondered.

"Oh. Um…" She glanced back toward the office and then hesitated. "Just a moment, please." Stepping toward the door leading into Blood's office, the assistant ducked inside and waved her hand to get his attention. "Mr. Blood, sir, Felicity Queen is here for your meeting."

"Thank you, Janice." Blood nodded at her politely. "Give me a moment to finish here."

"Of course, sir." Janice stepped back, closing the door, and turned to Felicity. "He'll just be a minute, finishing up his call. Would you like any refreshments while you wait?"

Felicity smiled. "No, thank you. We're fine." She admired the art on the wall to waste time, glancing back at Sara to see her hovering nearby, checking the windows and halls periodically.

Finally, after a few minute's passed, the intercom on Janice's desk buzzed. "Please tell Mrs. Queen I'll see her now," he said.

Sara sidled up next to her and said, just quiet enough for only Felicity to hear, "Feels like you were just called into the principal's office."

Felicity's lips twitched.

Janice stood and moved to the door, smoothing her skirt as she went. "He'll see you now," she said, waving them inside.

"Thank you, Janice." Felicity stepped through the door, Sara beside her.

Sebastian stood from his desk, circled it, and walked toward her, buttoning his suit jacket as he wet. His smile was wide, and incredibly white. "Mrs. Queen. It's a pleasure to meet you." He thrust a hand out for her to shake and, when she took it, topped it with his other hand. "I have to say… I'm honestly very _surprised _that you wanted to meet me."

"Really?" Felicity quirked her head curiously. "Why is that?"

"Well, I haven't exactly been quiet about my… _disdain_ for Starling City's more affluent when it comes to how much the Glades have gone overlooked."

"No, you haven't, which is why I'm here." She tugged her gloves off and tucked them away in the pockets of her jacket. "I was hoping, if you were open to it, we might be able to talk about the hospital in the Glades. I know they've been struggling to keep their doors open."

"They have," he agreed, nodding. "But I thought with tonight's gala, your focus would be on SC General?"

"They'll be getting a donation. But that doesn't mean my family isn't open to exploring other places that need attention."

"And your new pet project is the Glades?" He arched an eyebrow. "That's a big project, Mrs. Queen."

Felicity's lips thinned into a line. "I wouldn't call it a _'pet project_,' Mr. Blood. More of a… vested interest."

He stared at her a long moment then, before clearing his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I guess I'm just a little surprised that Oliver would want to have anything to do with this. He's never shown any interest before. Not to mention, it was his father who closed such an important job creator. Some say that's the reason the Glades spiralled as much as it has."

"My husband cares about the city, and so do I."

He hummed, leaning back against his desk, and searched her face thoughtfully. "You're aware then of the gossip about your husband? About how much he… _cares _about the city."

"Gossip?" She shook her head, brow furrowed. "What gossip is that?"

"That Oliver Queen has ties to the Bratva… The Russian mafia." His eyes were sharp, looking for any crack to exploit. "Something like that… I'm not sure I'd be comfortable having that tied to the rejuvenation of the Glades."

"Right. _That _gossip." Her lips turned up faintly before she took a step forward and stared Blood in the eye. "I can assure you that my husband is a businessman. Oliver wants the best for this city and keeping Queen Consolidated running in his father's memory, employing as many people as he does, is how he does that."

Blood broke eye contact first, casting his away, and Felicity raised her chin a notch higher.

"And for the record, Mr. Blood, it would be _me _you were dealing with in getting this project of the ground. So, if that's something you're interested in, I'll leave my contact information with Janice." With a short nod, she turned on her heel. "Thank you for your time. Have a nice day," she said over her shoulder.

He nodded, clearing his throat, and stood a little taller. "Right, thank you for coming in Mrs. Queen."

After dropping her information off with Janice, Felicity and Sara made their way toward the elevator.

"So that went well," Sara murmured.

"It could've gone worse."

"He basically accused Oliver of not caring and of you of being a trophy wife who does charity work so you don't die of boredom." Her mouth pursed irritably. "Say the word and—" She snapped her fingers. "—Blood can learn some much needed respect."

Felicity shook her head. "As much as I don't like it, I get it. From where he's standing, that's exactly what this looks like. But that's fine. Just as soon as we get him on board, we can get down to business, and he can learn firsthand just how wrong he is."

"And if he doesn't?"

She smiled, and snapped her fingers.

Sara grinned back.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Thea was in a great mood. After spending the majority of her morning with her sister-in-law, some retail therapy, and rocking a truly inspired manicure, she was feeling great. Even if her shipment was late, meaning that she and her staff would be working overtime to make sure everything was ready for tonight. Sure, the club didn't open until much later, but she had a schedule to keep, and making sure her product was in was only a small part of that.

"Miss Queen. They're here," Valentin, one of her bartenders, informed her.

She nodded at him, barely raising her gaze from the clipboard in her hand, and started toward the back loading dock, her heels clicking on the floor.

When she stepped outside, the crisp air reminded her that autumn was nearly over and winter was making its debut. Still, she shook off the chill and made her way toward the truck, casting her eyes around curiously. Of all the men who brought in her orders, there were only two she actually enjoyed having around. But there was one in particular she really didn't enjoy the company of and she was hoping he wasn't—

"Queenie," a familiar voice said behind her, the thread of Russian accent nearly absent.

Thea's lip curled instinctively, before she managed to control it as she turned to face him. "Roman," she greeted emotionlessly. "Hadn't seen you in a while. Thought you might've taken a job elsewhere."

"Not a chance." There was little to no emotion on Roman's face; he always kept his expressions schooled, which made him all the more creepy in Thea's opinion "Who do you have inside that can carry this in?"

"Valentin knows you're here. I'm sure he'll get Andrei and Ilari to help."

"Puh," he scoffed. "You need stronger men working for you. Should speak to the _Kapitan _about bringing in better help." He nodded his head toward the truck. "I'll unload for you. Have the little boys grab what they can."

Thea shrugged her shoulder. "Whatever works, just as long as I get my product."

"You always do, don't you?"

"It was late this week," she reminded, hugging her clip board under her arm. "Anton told me this wouldn't happen again."

He turned to her, raising a dark, thick brow. "Has Anton's lie made Princess upset?" he said, a thread of mocking in his voice. "Does she want him _disposed _of?"

"Of course not." Her eyes narrowed while her lips pursed. "Look, just get everything unloaded. I have other things to do." Turning on her heel, Thea started back toward the building, muttering under her breath about crazy Russian assholes. She thought she heard Roman calling after her, but she wasn't interested in any more of whatever it was he was offering.

Thea checked her watch, wondering if it was too early for a cocktail, and crossed the loading ramp toward the door inside.

She had her arm out, bangles jingling on her wrist, when she heard the screech of tires. Her head swiveled curiously, only to see a patchy grey car come to a stop, sideways, before men, faced covered, lurched out the windows, guns in hand, and started spraying bullets in every direction.

Thea's eyes widened and, for a moment, all she could do was stare in shock.

Just as her memory kicked in, reminding her of everything Sara had taught her, an arm ringed her waist and yanked her out of sight of the bullets. A body pressed her back against the cement wall before arms raised, hands grabbing onto the thick silver chain and pulling rapidly to lower the rolling, steel door. Thea covered her head with her arms, but she could still hear the _ping _of bullets ricocheting outside.

"Hey, you okay?" a voice asked.

Thea's head raised, her brows hiked and her eyes wide. "Okay? I just got _shot _at! No I'm not _okay!_"

The guy in front of her blinked, and then held his hands up. "Well, you look fine to me. Are you bleeding at all?"

Thea looked down at herself, gave her arms and legs a jostle, and then said, "No, I— I think I'm fine."

The door leading inside the club burst open then and Valentin, Ilari and Andrei hurried out, guns raised and game faces on.

"_Vy vse v poryadke?_" Valentin asked, reaching for her arm and squeezing. When she didn't answer right away, he searched her face quickly. "Miss Queen?"

"I- I'm fine. _Honestly_. Yes, I—I don't think I was hit." She startled then. "But Roman is still out there. Boy Wonder here saved us and shut the door in time. Roman kind of got left out in the chaos, I guess."

Valentin nodded shortly. "Get inside," he told her, before glancing at the man beside her. "Harper?"

He nodded.

"Watch her." Valentin pulled a gun from the holster around his shoulders and handed it to Harper. "Shoot anyone you don't recognize."

"Done," Harper agreed.

With that, Valentin turned to Ilari and Andrei. "_Sleduy za mnoy!_" he exclaimed before hurrying across the cement floor, to a door leading outside.

Harper moved toward the door leading into the club and looked at Thea expectantly. "Anywhere inside we can hunker down until this blows over?" he wondered.

Thea blew out a breath, her eyes turned away thoughtfully. "The cellar. It's built like a panic room."

He nodded, and started across the club floor with Thea at his heels, his finger tapped nervously against the gun he held.

"Have you ever used one of those?" she wondered, watching anxiously. If she strained her ears, she swore she could still hear the gun fight going on outside.

He glanced down at his hand, frowned, and then kept walking. "Where's the cellar?"

"Over there." She picked up the pace, passing him, and walked to a steel enforced door, plugged in the pass code and waited for the buzz. When it opened, she stepped inside, hitting the light switch before she walked down the stairs. "The door automatically locks behind you. They won't get in here without the passcode."

"Who all knows it?" he wondered, following her down the stairs.

She glanced back at him, frowning.

He held a hand up. "Not trying to pry, just trying to make sure we won't get any unexpected visitors."

Thea didn't really see the harm. The only people who had the passcode wouldn't crack for anything. "My brother does. Felicity too. She's the one that designed it. After that…" She shrugged. "Sara, John, Slade… _Family_." She eyed him curiously then. "Do you know them?"

"Your family?" He shook his head a little. "Not really. Reputation only, I guess. I'm not that high up in the ranks yet."

"Yet," she repeated, mouth turning up at the corner.

"Call me ambitious." He took a seat on a stool then, elbows on his legs. "So? You get shot up a lot?"

Thea snorted, moving to take a seat across from him, in one of the other stools that had gone unused. These were the backups, just in case the others broke or tore. "Can't say I do. I'm sure my brother will have a few things to say about it… He's been trying to get me to keep a bodyguard with me for, oh, _ever_." She rolled her eyes. "This'll definitely be the last straw. So I can kiss my independence away."

"You're an adult, aren't you? You can refuse a detail."

She laughed a little. "Yeah, I can see you're still new to this… Look, in this world, there's only the inevitable. I convinced him having Valentin and the others around was as close to having bodyguards anyway and, for a while, that worked. But… I don't think he's going to go for that one again. Anyway, as soon as he finds out, that's it. The _Kapitan_," she sighed, "will have someone shadowing me everywhere I go. And with my luck, it'll be Roman."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "Not a fan?"

Thea shrugged. "I don't know. We're not exactly friends. He just… You ever meet someone and they just give you the creeps."

He looked at her incredulously. "I work for the Bratva. I meet a lot of people like that," he reminded her.

She laughed. "All right, true, but you just proved my point. It's not exactly made up of the nicest people around and I really don't want one of them following me everywhere I go."

Nodding thoughtfully, he said, "So why not head your brother off?"

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of letting him assign you a detail, pick someone you want, someone you trust, and that way you can go to him, tell him you won't mind having someone around as long as it's someone you pick yourself."

Her brows raised thoughtfully. "_That_… is a pretty good idea. Not bad, Harper."

His mouth ticked up. "It's Roy actually. Harper's my last name."

"Ah." She held a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Roy. You're hired."

He blinked, pausing as he shook her hand. "I'm sorry._ What?_"

Thea grinned. "I've got a gala to be at tonight. Think you can find a nice suit in time to play my shadow?"

Roy gaped at her a little. "I… Are you sure about this? I'm not really… I mean, I'm still a _shestyorka_… or whatever."

Thea stood from the stool. "I like to follow my instincts, and they're telling me you're good. I mean, you did save me from a hail of bullets, didn't you?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Look, if I don't pick someone, and fast, my brother is going to have me surrounded by so many big, burly Russians, I won't be able to see two feet in any direction. I don't want that. I like my freedom exactly how it is. So you have just climbed a few rungs on the ladder." She smirked at him. "Congratulations."

He stared at her a long moment, took a deep breath, and then muttered, "Thanks… I guess."

Thea's phone began ringing in her jeans pocket then and she tugged it out, turning it over and seeing her brother's grumpy face staring back at her. Rolling her eyes, she hit Answer and raised it to her ear. "Before you start, don't worry. I'm fine, and I've already solved the problem."

Oliver let out a long suffering sigh and then said, "Explain."

Turning on her heel, Thea smirked at her glowering new bodyguard. This might just turn out to be more fun than she expected.

[**Next**: Chapter Two.]

* * *

**Translation**:

_Khoroshiy mal'chik – _[**Russian**] - Good boy! (Raisa to Slade)

_Tā zěnme yàngle?_ – [**Mandarin**] – How is he? (Ren to Guan-Yin)  
_Bàituō!_ – [**Mandarin**] – Please! (Ren to Guan-Yin)

_Privykayte k etomu_. – [**Russian**] – Get used to it. (Unknown Man to Ren)

_Dobroye utro _– [**Russian**] – Good morning. (Kirill to Felicity and Sara)  
_Ustali. Kapriznyy. _– [**Russian**] – Tired. Cranky. (Kirill to Felicity)

_Peremestite etot produkt vnutri._ – [**Russian**] – Move this product inside. (Anton to Roy)

_Moy drug. YA ne ozhidal uvidet' vas segodnya_. - [**Russian**] - John, my friend. I did not expect to see you today. (Anton to John)

_Vy vse v poryadke?_ – [**Russian**] – You all right? (Valentin to Thea)  
_Sleduy za mnoy_! – [**Russian**] – Follow me! (Valentin to Ilari and Andrei)

* * *

**author's note**: _this chapter was so much longer than I'd originally planned, but there was a lot that needed to be covered to set things up going forward. a few people wondered how Roy would climb the ranks, and I'd first thought about following his whole career, but what really matters is when he gets his foot in the door, and this is how he does it. He's been around for six months now, doing odd jobs for the Bratva, and there will be flashbacks here or there to show significant moments, but this is where his story really takes off for him. he's being thrown into the lion den here, and as much as he thought he was ready, he's going to find out just how unprepared he really is. especially in such a prestigious position, which not everyone will be happy about. _

_there's a lot going on here, so i'm sure there's some confusion in parts, because various plot points will unfold throughout the growth of the story. i don't plan on this being a super long story, but with chapters this long, it's difficult to say. roy gets to meet the queen's next chapter, which is one of my favorite scenes. and there's some more sweet olicity, and smutty olicity, next chapter too. so something to look forward to! ;) _

_thank you all so, so much for your amazing support. i really hope you enjoy this, because i'm so eager to share this particular plot with you and have spent a lot of time and energy fleshing it out with people - shout out: **ladymalfoi (alejandra)** and **voubledision (ivy)** \- each of whom have let me freak out about this story entirely too much. so! thank you. _

_please leave a review; they're my lifeblood!_

_until next time,  
_**\- lee | fina**


	3. Chapter Two

**chapter rating**: nc-17  
**warning(s)**: graphic violence/brutality, coarse language, explicit sexual content  
**prompt**: bratva au  
**word count**: 12,566

* * *

**TWO**

* * *

Felicity was _pissed_. One might not be able to tell, considering she was keeping stoic, but on the inside she was seething. During the ride home from City Hall, Felicity had received a call from Valentin informing her of what had happened at Verdant and that, while unscathed, Thea had been in the middle of a gun fight, narrowly escaping injury thanks to a new entry to the fold. After triple-checking both with her sister-in-law and with outside sources that Thea was really okay, Felicity's focus narrowed down to the situation itself.

When she arrived home, she climbed from the car before Sara had completely turned it off and tore her gloves from her hands, curling her fingers into her palm and letting the bite of her nails against her skin steady her.

Kirill appeared in the doorway and held it open for her while Nikki and Marat quickly took up space behind her, moving aside when Sara joined them.

"Do we have an ID on who was behind this?" Felicity demanded as started climbing the stairs.

There was a pause as they looked at each other, but Kirill finally cleared his throat and answered, "Not yet. There's footage from the outside cameras. Valentin said they covered their faces and the car had no license plate."

"But we have an idea?" she asked, making her way to her office.

"After last night, it's obvious, isn't it?" Nikki piped up, his tone dry. "The Triad tried to steal from us, we killed one of theirs; this is retribution."

"It's risky," Marat argued. "Stealing from you at all was risky, but to attack us in broad daylight? _Nyet_. It's too foolish."

"It would be stupid," Sara agreed, "but angry people do stupid things."

Felicity's jaw ticked before she swept into her library office and walked toward a bookcase. There, she reached for a very old copy of Macbeth and tipped it forward. There was a clicking noise before the shelf shifted and moved to the side, revealing an open, arched doorway leading to a large, windowless room, the walls dressed in monitors, each of which showed numerous sites around Starling City that were Bratva owned and operated.

Yosef was on shift and quickly stood from his chair to greet them, bowing his head to her. "I have isolated the footage from the attack, as well as any cameras from surrounding area," he told her, his accent thick, making his words a little slow.

She nodded at him in thanks before casting her eyes around. Given how much there was to watch, with various companies and businesses under Bratva control, Felicity knew pulling Yosef away from his job would be a mistake. He was one of their best, and never complained about the obvious eye-sore it must be to keep a constant, vigilant eye on their properties. A large book was unfolded in front of him, filled with Russian writing detailing the last six hours' worth of footage he'd watched in real time, the tapes constantly recording. While he continued to watch the other sites, she decided someone else would need to focus on the recent attack.

"Marat, I want you to comb through all of the footage. It will be on this screen here." She pointed to a lower monitor near the edge of a table, noticing Yosef nod from the corner of her eye. "Watch it, then rewatch it, and catalogue anything that's important."

Marat gave a short nod before he took a seat in a rolling chair and pulled himself up to the monitor. It wasn't so long ago that he had been in Yosef's seat, but having recently climbed the ladder, he'd spent the last few months far away from the bright screen of any monitors, until now at least.

"Get in touch with Valentin and…" She paused, shaking her head. "Who was it that was outside? He said we had a guy outside that was delivering…?"

Kirill's eyes darted away for a moment before he nodded. "_Da_. Roman. He took a hit to the arm, but he is fine."

Felicity nodded. "Talk to Roman too, see if he saw anything out of the ordinary before bullets started flying."

"_Konechno_," Marat answered, abruptly turning toward the screen and taking up a keyboard.

"Kirill, I want you and Nikki to head to the club. Valentin's made sure that nobody is coming or going down there. Grab any bullet shells you can find and get them to Julian. Then ask around the neighborhood, see if anybody saw anything. You know the drill."

She moved past him toward her office once more, her stride quick and purposeful.

In Russian, Nikki asked, "_What if no one will speak to us?_" He crossed his arms behind his back and tipped his chin down, staring after her, the sharp angles of his face severe.

Felicity paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. "This is Thea," she said, her voice strained. "If you think someone knows something…"

Nikki pursed his lips and then nodded shortly. "Then I will _make _them speak."

She stared at him a moment longer before finally turning back around and continuing toward the door. "Where is my husband?"

"He returned home early. He was… _upset_. He is sparring with John and Slade now," Kirill informed her, keeping pace at her back.

Felicity walked downstairs, shedding her jacket as she went. "_Spasibo_, Kirill."

Kirill and Nikki bowed their heads at her before they left, walking out the front door with Nikki muttering Russian obscenities under his breath.

Felicity distractedly laid her jacket over the bottom of the banister in the foyer and quickly made her way through the lower half of the mansion, her heels clicking on the floor.

"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Sara wondered, walking beside her. "You know how surly he gets when he's angry."

"He's worried about Thea. I understand that. He has every right to be. He'll work off the anger with the boys. That doesn't mean I shouldn't check in with him." Felicity didn't say it, but she knew that most of Oliver's anger was really just fear in disguise. He was always worried about what could happen to the people closest to him, and he lashed out when he lost control in any way. She understood that, even if, logically, she knew that there were some things that couldn't be controlled. Their lives were always on the brink of chaos, too close to the unhinged and uncontrolled not to be.

When she walked into the sparring room, she could hear the click-clack of kali sticks slapping together, directing her where to go. She found Oliver, barefoot, in the center of the mats, arms weaving in every direction as he staved off attack from both Slade and John, who were giving him no quarter as they moved closer and closer, attempting to hit him from every available angle.

Maybe it was anger, that same rage she could still feel stirring in her own gut, but Oliver was completely focused, his every sense narrowed down to the fight. He was ducking and moving, avoiding, narrowly, every reaching arm and stick that came his way. He twisted himself, bringing both sticks down on John, one across the face and the other hard on his shoulder. As John whirled away in pain, cursing under his breath, Oliver lashed out with a kick to the hip, knocking John to the ground before he twisted, catching an incoming blow from Slade with one stick while he leapt out of the way of the other. Oliver caught his footing and pivoted back to face him. Slade was grinning savagely, spittle leaving his lips as he laughed.

"C'mon then, brother. Let it all out," he coaxed before lunging forward.

Oliver met him in the middle, his teeth bared viciously. He parried each swing of the kali stick Slade made and turned himself, leaping up a few inches and coming down heavy, jamming his elbow down into the socket of Slade's shoulder. Slade cried out angrily and stumbled forward. Oliver used it to his advantage, bringing both sticks down on Slade's back, plunging him forward onto his knees.

Just as John was getting to his feet once more and Slade was pushing himself up, breathing heavy and face red, Felicity stepped forward. "_Enough_."

All three men turned toward her, sweat dripping from their flushed skin. There were welts on each of them, red in color and deepening with time. Even Oliver, for all that he'd avoided most of their attacks was still bruising in places.

"I'd like a moment with my husband," she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument.

John and Slade exchanged a look, glanced at Oliver, and then stepped off the mats.

"John, Marat is upstairs in the office. He's going over tape at Verdant. See if you can help, please? Then you and Slade can call Kirill and Nikki, they've gone to Verdant to check out the area, find out what they've learned."

Slade scoffed. "Should probably head over there myself. They won't know what to look for."

Felicity nodded. "Wherever you think your skill set fits." Just as he was about to leave, she reached out, her hand finding his arm. "And the boy that helped Thea… Roy Harper?" She stared up at him meaningfully.

Turning serious, Slade nodded. "Done."

Sara hopped down off a table she'd been sitting on. "That's my cue too, I take it?"

Felicity turned back to her, sighing. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You've got a lot on your mind." She shrugged before adding a wink and saying, "We've got a gala to get ready for anyway. I'll dig out my finest and see you back here in a few hours."

"Thanks, Sara."

"Always." She smiled warmly and squeezed Felicity's shoulder before she started toward the door.

As it closed behind her, the room was left quiet.

The tension was thick as Oliver paced, rolling his shoulders and squeezing his hands around the kali sticks. Felicity watched him as she leaned down, lowering the back zipper on her boots and slipping them off. She lined them up and put them aside before she stepped, barefoot, onto the mats. She walked to him calmly, taking deep breaths through her nose, trying to control her own anger at the situation. When she reached the center, she stared up at him, watching as he came to a stop, one of his knees jumping with leftover energy. Her hands found his and unfolded his fingers from around the sticks; she took them from him and padded away to put them with the others.

When she looked back at him, he was picking at one of his thumbs with his forefinger, his upper chest flushed, sweat dotting his skin. "You're upset."

"Yeah, I'm upset. I'm— I don't—" Frustrated, he shook his head. "It's _Thea_. She's not even really part of this. She's just… She's _innocent_."

Felicity gazed at him a long moment before saying, "None of us are innocent. Thea might not have blood on her hands, but you're wrong. Oliver, she's _family_. She's a part of this. She has been from the beginning." The walk toward him was slow, feeling him out, letting him find his calm once more. "I don't want her to be a target any more than you do. But she is. And we have to take precautions for that."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Precautions. Like Valentin and his guys."

"Valentin is loyal. You know that. He cares about Thea. He'd take a bullet for her." Before he could argue, she added, "But you're right. She needs someone closer. And if Valentin is focused on the bar as a whole, he can't be focused on her as an individual. Which makes getting to her too easy." Chewing her lip, she shook her head. "I know she doesn't want a guard on her, but… At least until we deal with this situation…"

"She thought of that. _Apparently_ she already has someone in mind."

Felicity's brow furrowed. "Already?"

He offered a sarcastic smile. "This Harper kid… I don't know. Valentin said he was the one that got her to safety and _Thea… _Thea says she likes him and if we want a detail on her, she wants it to be him."

"A detail is a lot more than one person," Felicity muttered, her lips pursed.

He sighed. "This is her way of bargaining apparently."

Felicity nodded, reaching up to press her fingers to her chin thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

"I think she should move home. That we could keep her safer here, surrounded." He stretched his neck, rolling his head side to side. "But I also know her… I know she'll find ways to sneak out because she doesn't like being under watch. And I know that forcing her to come home will only make things worse. Which means that I'm going to have to agree with her. I don't know about Harper, but I do know that she's not going to be happy if I turn her into some Rapunzel reject."

Felicity smiled slowly then. "That sounded halfway understanding…" She stared up at him searchingly. "Are you sure that's what you want to do? You know I'll support your decision, but I don't want it to stress you out either."

Blowing out a sigh, he nodded and reached for her, his hands squeezing her upper arms gently. "I know. And I appreciate that." Thumbs stroking over her shoulders, he tugged her forward, until she was pressed to his chest, his chin atop her head. "I didn't even think… You were out with her this morning. You could've been there when they—"

"I wasn't." She slung her arms around his waist, letting her chest rest against his warm, damp skin. "I was at City Hall, safe and sound. Thea and I parted ways more than an hour before the drive-by." She rubbed her hands up and down his back soothingly. "Come on… We have a few hours before the gala and you're still tensed up. Let's get a shower and…" She tipped her head back to smile at him, a brow raised. "See what we can do about loosening you up."

He grinned back slowly. "I like your coping mechanisms."

She laughed. "Yeah, well, I have some excess energy of my own I'd like to burn off. And since the guys are already looking into the situation and Thea is alive and well, I think the _Kapitan_ deserves a break, don't you?"

Hugging her to his side as they started walking to the door, he said, "_Absolutely_."

* * *

**…**

* * *

Roy was still feeling the buzz of adrenaline running through his system an hour after the shootout ended. Thea barely seemed fazed. Sure, when it first happened, she froze up, but afterwards, it was like she'd seen too much to worry about one near-fatal shooting. She was running around the bar, ordering people to move the, miraculously unharmed, crates of liquor inside, without a hitch in her step. Roy was still trying to wrap his head around the part where he was her personal bodyguard.

"So, you'll be meeting some of the guys soon. You might want to work on your tough-as-shit face," Thea announced as she breezed past him to the bar, clipboard in hand.

"My _what?_"

"Your tough-as-shit face." Rolling her eyes at his confused expression, she explained, "You know, that face guys make when they meet someone they know can twist them into a pretzel but are trying to pretend they aren't pissing themselves on the inside."

"And I'll be pissing myself _because_…?"

"Well, last I checked, Kirill and Nikki were coming. Kirill's nice, _usually_, but Nikki is terrifying on his best day. And if I know him, and I do, then Slade will head down too. Mostly because he doesn't trust anybody to do anything as good as him."

"What are they coming down for?"

She raised her eyebrows in a 'duh' fashion.

He sighed. "Besides the obvious."

"Just the obvious," she said, shaking her head. "They'll want to see the alley themselves, talk to everyone, make sure everybody has the same story, and then they'll probably ask around, see if anybody saw the car come in or knows who owned it. You know, Sherlock it. And if _that_ doesn't work, scare the shit out of the locals so they fear them more than whoever was in that car. Easy-peasy."

As if her simply saying it called them, the doors to the club opened and two men in expensive, tailored suits entered. They were both about the same height, but the brunet was broad shouldered, thick across the chest, with a five o'clock shadow, while the other was slim, his black hair shaved on the sides and slicked back on top, and clean shaven with a cruel tilt to his mouth. Roy didn't need her to tell him which was which; he knew the slim man was Nikki; his entire countenance screamed violent.

They walked across the room toward Thea, hardly sparing Roy a glance.

"You look well," Kirill said, reaching for her.

Thea met him in the middle and let him squeeze her hands. "I_ am_. A little shook up, but…" She blew out a breath. "Not a scratch on me, so that's something."

"_Khorosho_. They'll be glad to hear. They're both worried."

"I know." She brought her hands back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Honestly, it's no big deal. Roy grabbed me in time, so…"

Their gazes suddenly darted to the left to land on him and Roy found himself standing a little taller, his chin raised.

"Kirill, Nikki, this is Roy Harper. He was with Roman when everything went nuts and… well, made sure I kept my head down," Thea told them.

"I just got you out of the way. You probably would've been fine without me," Roy dismissed, shrugging.

"Maybe. But I did freeze up for a second, so, either way, I appreciate the save."

Kirill looked Roy over thoughtfully. "You were working with Roman?"

Roy nodded, pursing his lips. "I was moving merchandise. I was at the warehouse working for Anton; he said I could make a few extra dollars delivering here. We got a few boxes unloaded when a car pulled up and started shooting. I was on the platform, carrying in a crate when I saw, uh, Miss Queen, in the line of fire…" He shrugged. "Just made sense to duck and cover after that."

Kirill hummed, nodding.

Nikki's eyes narrowed. "_On molod. Malen'kiy mal'chik. Yedva iz pelenok_," he muttered, lip curled.

Kirill was solemn as he replied, "_My vse kogda-to byli_."

Thea frowned between them and shook her head. "_Anyway_, I already talked to Ollie. I know everybody's freaking out, but I have a solution. Roy will guard me, at least until we figure out what's going on and who thought shooting up my club was a smart idea."

Kirill shifted his feet. "He has… _agreed _to this?" he asked skeptically.

"He hasn't… _not _agreed," she hedged. "Look, I brought it up. Valentin's great, but he has his hands full most of the time and, no offense, but I don't want a whole mob of you guys shadowing me everywhere I go. So, just Roy. We've already talked and he'll be with me tonight at the gala."

"And after, when you open the club?" Kirill wondered.

Thea glanced to her side and Roy, catching her look, nodded.

Sighing mentally, Roy realized his work day just got a _whole _lot longer.

"_Eto bezumiye_," Nikki sighed.

Kirill shrugged. "_Vozmozhno_." To Thea, he said, "Nikki and I will examine the alleyway. We will also be talking to people who might have seen something."

"Check with the laundromat down the road," Roy suggested. "They have cameras outside their joint that face right toward the alley. If they stopped to cover their faces, might be on camera."

Kirill nodded at him, but Nikki was still staring at him through suspicious, narrowed eyes. As they turned to walk away, Nikki called back, "Stay safe_, Printsessa_."

Thea rolled her eyes, muttering, "Asshole" under her breath before she turned back to Roy. "All right. They're going to be busy doing that and _I _need a drink. But, since I've only got a few hours before this gala, we need to get out of here."

Roy shifted his feet and cleared his throat before telling her, "Yeah, about that, I don't really _have _a suit…"

Grabbing up her clipboard, she started toward her office, climbing the stairs entirely too agilely for someone on such steep heels. Putting away her paperwork and grabbing up her jacket and purse, she turned to him, looking him over, and then nodded. "All right. Well, we'll just have to improvise."

"Improvise how?" he wondered, following her out of the office.

Smirking at him, she dug her phone out of her purse and thumbed four on her speed dial. It rang twice before it was picked up.

Thea smiled at whoever greeted her on the other end before saying, "Preferably? Vodka and a shoulder to cry on. But for right now, a suit would be awesome." She nodded along to whatever they were saying before answering, "About six foot, think Valentin, but not quite as tall…" There was a pause and then a bright smile. "Great. Thank you. You're a lifesaver, Raisa, seriously. Mmhmm. Yeah. No, I know." She turned her eyes up, but it wasn't so much with exasperation as it was affection. "I love you too. Okay. I'll see you tonight. Bye." After she hung up, she turned to him. "Okay. So, we'll have a suit for you, pressed and ready tonight. Just to be sure it fits, we'll have to get to the house a little early. Raisa's going to ask a few of the guys what they can offer up on short notice."

Roy shifted a little, grimacing. "I don't need charity."

She snorted. "It's not charity. It's what we do." Walking to the sleek, red Porsche waiting for her, she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Look, you want to be in this life, you need to fit the part. The ratty red hoodie might work for moving merch around, but you're going to be standing next to me at a very public event. I can't have you looking like you just rolled out of junior high. You'll borrow this suit and tomorrow we can go shopping for something more your style, all right?"

He pursed his lips, but nodded. There was no point in arguing with her, especially if she had a point. He would be doing this, shadowing her, for who knew how long, and he needed to blend in if he planned on staying. He'd never expected to get in this way, but if this was his one opportunity, he wasn't going to waste it.

"Good. Now let's go. I need to get ready and then we need to head back to the manor. Where you get to be scrutinized by my brother." She grinned. "If you thought Kirill and Nikki were scary, wait until you meet Ollie on a bad day."

While Thea's eyes were full of good humor, Roy couldn't help but think of the files Lance had on Oliver Queen and associates. He remembered the picture of the _Kapitan_, the brutal and unforgiving plains of his face, the strength and violence that seemed to seep from his pores.

Oliver Queen, when seen by the public masses, seemed like a charitable businessman who could charm anybody and had settled down from his once wild days. But the _Kapitan_ of the Bratva, the man Lance had introduced Roy to on paper, was a cold blooded killer that would do anything to succeed and keep his people safe. He was a controlled kind of vicious that could just as soon shake his hand as break it. Roy wanted to be strong, he wanted to be unafraid, but that would be stupid. Because fear was a survival mechanism, and as much as he might not like to view it that way, he was playing a game of life or death.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Felicity giggled, her head falling back, and her fingers furled in his hair. "I'm supposed to be getting dressed, not _un_dressed…" she reminded.

Oliver grinned, pressing a kiss to her thigh as he rolled her stocking down her leg, revealing more soft, supple skin. Despite her paltry protests, she spread her legs for him, watching him through hooded eyes as he knelt in front of her, having turned the bench seat in front of her vanity so she was facing him. Wearing only black panties and the garter belt to clip her stockings to, she was stunning. One of his hands swept over her stomach and up her side, fingers teasing her ribs, mouth spreading in a smile as she choked on a laugh. His palm smoothed up her back, pausing briefly at the scar over her shoulder blade, where a bullet wound of old was still puckered. He pressed his mouth against her leg with a little more enthusiasm, licking a strip upward and tugging at the clip straps that hung, unused.

He moved his hand around, rubbing gentle circles over her shoulder, before sliding it down her chest, fingertips spread out. She arched herself forward, pressing into his touch as his fingers swept past one of her nipples before he cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing across the center, teasing her lightly.

"Oliver," she huffed his name impatiently.

He nipped at her thigh and dropped his hands to her hips, taking either side of her under in hand and giving them a tug. She pressed her hands down against the bench seat and lifted herself as he dragged the, now damp, fabric down her legs, tossing them to the floor before his hands met her knees and kept them open. He stared up at her for a moment, watching as her teeth dug into her bottom lip, a flush filled her cheeks, and her pupils dilated.

He leaned up then, a hand fitting behind her neck and drawing her down. Their mouths slanted together, and he let out a long, content sigh. He pressed quick, pecking kisses to her mouth before he sucked on her bottom lip, let it go with a pop, and dragged his mouth down her chin. Felicity's head fell back as his lips caressed her neck, teeth gently scraping. He slid his hand down to her shoulder and the slope of her arm, the tips of his fingers gliding smoothly over her skin. His other hand ventured up her thigh, squeezed her hip, and journeyed to her ribs, thumb stroking side to side.

Kissing each of her clavicles, Oliver dragged his chin down the middle of her chest, pausing in the valley of her breasts. He looked up at her, his head tipping to the right, cheek rubbing against her nipple. She smiled down at him, her lips stretching wider as he grinned back. He cupped his hand under her breast and wrapped his smiling lips around her nipple, tongue swirling and teeth cradled around it. As his other hand found hers, he raised it, putting it on his shoulder, and slid his arm around her waist, his hand sweeping up her back, teasing her skin with light brushes of his fingers. He switched to her other breast, kissing all around her nipple, nuzzling his nose downward and pressing his mouth to her ribs as she arched back, breathing a little heavier.

His mouth wandered down her front, pressing slow, lingering kisses all over her stomach, feeling her tremble under his mouth, her hand squeezing his shoulder. He kissed her from her belly button, straight up to her mouth, biting her chin playfully as he went. Her eyes were half-lidded and warm with affection and want. Her lips pressed to his urgently, while her hands dipped down his chest, fingers spread wide, trying to touch as much of him as she could at once. He leaned into her kiss, burying a hand in her damp hair and holding on tight.

When her fingers finally reached his cock, he let out a deep groan, shifting in her grip, leaning his chest in even as his hips pulled away. This wasn't about him. He'd had more than enough in the shower. No, he wanted to see _her _come apart. He wanted to hear her cry his name as he made her fall to pieces. He reached for her hands, one of his spanning both of her wrists, and he pulled them up, his other hand finding her leg and hitching it over his shoulder.

Pulling away from her mouth slowly, he stared into her eyes a long moment before finally falling back to sit on his heels, dropping his head to her knee and pressing a soft kiss there. His mouth smoothed down her thigh then, tongue and teeth periodically nipping at and licking her skin. Her fingers dug into the cushion of her seat, her shoulders raising and her chin falling, as she watched his progress.

When his mouth finally met the juncture of her thighs, he started off slowly, kissing around her pussy with small, gentle flicks of his tongue, building her up, watching her squirm, before he dragged his tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top. She opened her legs wider, letting out a little whimpering noise as he kissed her, suckling her between his lips, tongue dabbing. One of her hands fit behind his neck, fingers curled down, nails biting at his nape.

Oliver could remember a time when a woman's fulfillment hadn't been anywhere near the top of his priority list. He'd been young and a selfish lover, putting himself before anyone else. It had suited him fine for the time. Though it often left his partners to finish themselves off, there was no shortage of women looking to hook up with him, especially being the heir of a billionaire. Still, he'd been a good student when it became important. His previous girlfriend had a quid pro quo agreement where she would go down on him as often as he went down on her; needless to say, he made going down on her a regular thing. But it wasn't until he met his wife that he realized giving her pleasure could be just as rewarding as getting his own, and it had everything to do with wanting to know his partner was satisfied in every measure he could offer.

Oliver took his time, teasing and tasting every inch of her pussy, taking cues from the sounds she was making and the way her hips rocked at a certain angle. Sometimes she wanted more pressure, sometimes she wanted less, and he'd long figured out her way of letting him know. So when her breath hitched and her leg dug down on his shoulder, heel pressing against his back, he picked up speed, his lips and tongue focusing on her clit. The first time she came apart, she let out a squeal, her whole body tightening up and then releasing. He moved his mouth away to kiss her thighs then, letting her come down, and when she was a little more loose limbed, a satisfied smile playing at her mouth, he gently worked a finger inside her, curving it upward. It was a gradual build up, aware of how sensitive she could get after she came. Her thighs were slick and her legs were both hung over his shoulder, when he set his mouth on her again, his finger moving a little quicker. It didn't take as long for her to fall apart this time, her clit caught between his lips, and then she was scratching at his shoulders and crying his name, shaking her head even as she pressed herself against his mouth, silently asking for more. He didn't pause this time, instead he built off the last orgasm until she shattered for a third time, the noise that pulled from her throat echoing off the walls of their bedroom. And when she pushed at his shoulders, then he knew she was done, and he sat back on his heels, licking his lips and grinning at her.

Felicity was panting, sweat clinging to her flushed skin. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, sliding off the bench on wobbly legs and falling to her knees in front of him, her chest pressed to his and her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers threaded in his hair.

Her kisses were lazy and full of contentment, brushing over his mouth and his cheek before she buried her face at his shoulder and just hummed. He rocked her a little, side to side, as his hands rubbed her back soothingly.

"Feel better?" she wondered.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, before sliding a hand down to palm her ass, squeezing gently. "I'll feel better after a nap."

"'Kay." He lifted them both up onto their feet, steadying her when her knees shook, and grinned proudly when she wobbled off to the bathroom to clean up before rejoining him in the bed.

She shucked off the garter belt, shimmying her hips as she went, and climbed onto the bed, crawling toward him and dropping down with little to no finesse, letting her head rest on his chest as her arm wrapped around his waist. He smiled, bending to kiss the top of her hair, and reached across to the bedside table to set the alarm on his phone.

An hour. That was all they could waste before she would have to get back to dressing up for the gala and he could check in with everyone on the status of the afternoon's attack on Thea. Reminded of it once more, his mind soon clouded with 'what if's' and how the afternoon could have ended dramatically different.

"Hey." Felicity turned her head, looking up at him knowingly. "She's okay. She wasn't hurt. And worrying about it doesn't change it. We'll take precautions, we'll be more prepared, it's the only thing we _can_ do."

He knew she was right, even if something heavy settled in his gut. Preparation might help, but it didn't make promises that next time, whoever came for his sister, for his _family_, wouldn't be successful.

Stroking a curl of hair back from Felicity's face, he settled his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

They _would _prepare and take precautions, but more than that, they would find out who came for them and why, and then they would make them pay. Because _nobody_ came for his family, took a shot at _his _sister, and walked away from it.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Ren scowled as he stared at the call display on his cell phone. With an irritated sigh, he hit Answer and raised it to his ear. "_What_?" he bit out.

"This was not in the plan, Lin. I told you that I had something in the works."

Grounding his teeth, Ren scrubbed his fingers over his eyes. "I understand that. Unfortunately, my men were… anxious, and they decided to take matters into their own hands." He stared down at the last of four bodies currently being rolled up in garbage bags by Gang and Li while Ping started unraveling duct tape to keep the bags in place. "The situation has been dealt with."

A long, severe sigh answered him. "This makes things difficult. Queen is aware of what happened. More people will be on guard tonight."

"Look, I get it, but your plan was risky already. You want to cancel, do it, but don't put it on me." He scraped a hand back through his hair and paced away from the bodies. "You said we would have retribution. Last I heard, Thea Queen was still walking the earth. In fact, all of Queen's people are still breathing. So where's my revenge, huh?"

"You'll get it much sooner when you learn to keep your people in check."

"Disobedience isn't overlooked in my crew. I said it's been handled and it has. No one makes another move on the family, not directly, without word from me."

"And you don't make a move unless _I_ tell you to."

Ren clenched his teeth together, turning his eyes up to the ceiling of the damp warehouse. "You make a lot of assumptions about how much disrespect I will accept, _Russian_."

A low, amused chuckle answered him. "This partnership is beneficial for me, for both of us. But make no mistake, if you become a liability, I will destroy you, your entire crew, and that pretty little sister of yours."

Ren balled a hand up into a fist, the pressure on his knuckles helping to reign in the flash of intense and violent anger that rippled through him. "Understood," he bit out.

"Tonight will continue as planned. Make sure you and your people are seen elsewhere. There will be no ties directly to you."

"Done."

"And Lin?"

He waited.

"Fuck this up in any way, and I will feed you your own organs, one by one."

A click followed, and Ren lowered his phone as the call ended, a tick pulsing at his jaw. Closing his eyes a moment, he tried to find his calm, but all he could think of was his sister's face when he'd seen her last, telling him to get his life together.

Finally, he opened his eyes and turned around, shouting at the three men in Mandarin, "_Hurry up! I want these bodies gone. Destroy any evidence they were tied to us. No one can know we were involved_."

Gang, Li and Ping each nodded and quickly started gathering up the bodies for disposal.

Ren left the warehouse and made his way to his car. As much as he didn't like the Russian's threats, it was the nature of his job. He was the one who thought he could make a better life for himself trading on secrets with a Bratva soldier, now he had to live with that decision.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Thea's penthouse suite was something Roy could only dream of. Stairs led up to a loft bedroom while the living room, dining room, and kitchen were all open space, aside from a few stabilizing beams. Floor to ceiling windows looked out on the best part of Starling City and the hardwood floors were waxed to a shine. As he stepped through the front door, he found himself worrying about the state of his shoes and what he might have stepped in.

Thea didn't seem worried at all, shedding her jacket and tossing her purse over an arm of her ivory white couch before walking to the stairs leading to her room, her hips swaying.

Roy lingered at the door. Should he follow her? Just what kind of boundaries were there on this bodyguard gig? Was he supposed to be within sight at all times or…?

"There's plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself. It's gonna be a bit for me to get ready. TV's got plenty to watch. Just don't drink anything. Showing up sloppy drunk isn't going to sell the fam on having you take over my security."

As she climbed the stairs, he shrugged, walking to the kitchen. "Uh, about that," he shouted after her. "What _exactly _am I supposed to do?"

Thea's voice carried down from her room, though muffled from the distance. "Mostly? Just keep an eye out for skeevy, murdery types."

He snorted.

"Look, I know today wasn't exactly a selling point, but my life really isn't that dramatic. I run my club, I hang out with my friends, I go to boring galas every once in a while, and I spend a _lot _of time with my family. Today was more of a… once in a blue moon situation, you know? Most people don't have the balls to come after me."

He nodded thoughtfully as he perused her fridge and dug out all the makings of a good sandwich. Laying it all on her island counter, he searched around for some bread and a knife before turning his attention back to the discussion at hand. "Shouldn't I have some kind of training though?"

There was a long pause then; whether she was busy or thinking, he couldn't be sure. But then she appeared, resting her arms on the railings that made up the wall of her room, overlooking the rest of the apartment. She wore a black, lace bra on top, but he couldn't see much of her lower half, not with the way she was standing.

"Since that will _probably_ be the first thing my brother points out, _yes_, you should, which is why I'm sure he'll suggest you start showing up to the house regularly and working with Slade and John. Well, he'll probably suggest himself actually, but he's got enough on his plate. You're better off working with Slade and John anyway. They taught Ollie everything he knows."

"So, who's going to be watching out for you while I'm training?"

"Me. _Genius_. I'll probably be on the property anyway." She shrugged. "And if I get bored, I can just tag along with Felicity and Sara."

"You know, you're taking this pretty easy…" he pointed out, waving the butter knife, smeared in mustard, toward her. "Shouldn't you be freaking out? You said yourself it doesn't happen regularly."

Inhaling deeply, Thea let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know. I guess I was freaking out a bit when it was happening. But… This is the life I live. I might not get shot at every day, but did I know there was a chance of it happening? Yeah. I did."

"That's… logical. I guess."

With a snort, she rolled her eyes, shrugging. "Whatever. I'm going to shower and get ready. Then we can head over to the house and see what Raisa's found for you to wear tonight."

Roy nodded, focusing back on his sandwich, soon layered with three kinds of meat, tomato, a slice of Havarti cheese, pickles, and fresh, green lettuce between two soft slices of bread. Pouring himself a tall glass of milk, he dusted his hands off and circled the island to take a seat on the stool before digging into his food. If this was the life he had to look forward to, for the time being, he could get used to it. Sure, eventually he would have to throw Thea and her family under the bus, but that was the hand he was dealt. She seemed nice, good people even, but like she said, this was the life, and just as she knew she could get shot at, she had to know that her family could also be taken down, piece by piece. She probably wasn't expecting to be such a vital cog in the machine that would do it, but those were the breaks.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Oliver watched, chin balanced on the pillow balled up under him, as Felicity slid her stockings up her legs and attached the straps to them. It was probably a figment of his imagination that time slowed, but he'd long gotten used to that sensation when it came to her.

"You're staring," she told him, her mouth quirked at the corners.

"For good reason."

She laughed under her breath and raised an eyebrow. "They're just legs, Oliver. You've seen them every day for six years."

He grinned. "And I never get tired of them."

Shaking her head, she reached over to grab her hair brush and brandished it at him. "Your enthusiasm is noted, but I've already had to take another shower. So keep your hands to yourself, mister." With that, she turned her attention to brushing through her long hair, damply hanging down her bare back.

Shucking off the sheet wrapped around him, he hopped off the bed and walked to her. His hands found her shoulders, and a smile stretched his lips as she shivered, leaning into his touch. He brushed his thumbs over her soft skin and bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll take any and all distractions with me then. I need to check in with Slade and Diggle anyway."

As he started toward the bathroom, she called his name.

Pausing, he looked back at her, searching her face.

She was quiet for a long moment, her hair pulled forward over one shoulder, water dripping down her chest. "I'm sorry about Thea. I know you're worried about her, and you have every right. So if you want to do something, if you want to get her out of the country until whatever this is blows over… We can do that. She won't like it, she'll definitely fight it, but we can talk to her about it. It'll still be her decision, but I'll support you if you want to bring it up."

Oliver took a moment to let her words resonate and nodded slowly. "I want to bring it up, and I think we should. With what's been happening at the docks and now this, it feels like something's coming. Something big. But you're right, it has to be her decision. I don't think she'll go for it, but I still want to talk to her about it."

Felicity nodded, inhaling deeply. "Okay. We'll talk to her tonight, after the gala."

He half-smiled, dipped his chin agreeably, and then moved deeper inside the bathroom.

As he turned the taps on the shower and stepped under the hot spray, his mind wandered on him.

Six years ago, he'd seen the opportunity to what was happening, to what was being offered to him, and he'd taken it, latched onto it, choosing not to look too hard at the downsides because the upsides seemed so vitally important to maintaining the life and legacy that he wanted. But now, with things going so wrong, with his sister the target of a drive-by, he found himself looking back on that memory and wondering if maybe he'd been too eager to prove himself, to have stability of some kind, that he'd been just as irrational and impulsive as his parents told him he was.

But even knowing that, even knowing that his life, the people around him, weren't as stable or as safe as he'd wanted, he couldn't find it in himself to regret his decision.

Six years ago, Felicity walked into his life, and nothing could convince him that was a bad thing.

A half-hour later, when Oliver stepped out of the shower, he found the bedroom empty; Felicity's dress still hung from a hook inside the opened closet door, but her robe was missing. Walking to the closet, he dug around for something to wear. There was still a couple hours before they had to go and if he didn't plan on spending it in a constricting suit. Finding a nice sweater and a pair of jeans to wear, he quickly changed, and soon made his way into Felicity's office. The hidden bookcase door was open wide and, as he stepped inside, he wasn't surprised to see Marat staring hard at a monitor, writing in a book in front of him, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Have you found anything?" he asked abruptly.

Looking up, Marat turned in his chair to face him. "They wore bandanas around their faces, but I did get a license plate off the footage and I contacted Julian, he has someone running it now."

Oliver nodded shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at the screen, lips pursed. "Play it for me."

Spinning his chair back around, Marat restarted the footage from just before the attack.

Oliver stepped closer, his eyes sharp as he took in every inch of what was being shown on screen. He had Marat play it three times before stepping back.

"Who was it that was delivering?" he wondered.

"Roman…?" Marat hummed, glancing at his book once more, and nodded. "_Da_. Roman."

Oliver blinked. "He's new?"

"Somewhat. He's been with us for a year, perhaps more. He's only recently earned his stripes."

"That's him there?" Oliver pointed to the broad-shouldered man, his dark blonde hair slicked back. He wore a pinstriped dress shirt and the glint of gold caught the camera from a thick necklace. As the footage played a fourth time, Roman finished talking with an irritated Thea, who quickly put her attention back on her clipboard and walked away.

"So this one here…" Oliver pointed to a much slimmer man, swamped in a too-large red hoodie, carrying product up the stairs to the loading dock.

"Harper," Marat told him. "He is the one that saves Thea."

Oliver watched, brow furrowed, as the car suddenly pulled up and four bodies leaned out the window, guns raised. Thea was just reaching for the door, seconds away from safety, when the bullets start flying.

It was clear even in the few seconds that passed that Thea was frozen; Oliver recognized the signs. She'd been shocked stiff, and if it wasn't for Harper—

Dropping a crate of alcohol to the floor of the dock, the boy was a blur of red as he darted forward. Bullets sprayed the ground and across the dock, but he was quick, hustling across the floor, his head bowed. Without pause, he wrapped an arm around Thea's waist and yanked her out of view, pushing her against the wall, and, with a sharp tug of his hand, the metal door of the dock fell closed, covering them.

Oliver turned his attention back to the car as it rolled by, spraying the ground, taking out the windows on the truck, blowing out a tire, winging Roman in the arm as he ran for cover, and then it sped off down the alley, out of sight.

It had happened quickly, two minutes tops, but the damage was done, and the message was clear.

A muscle ticked in Oliver's cheek.

"So we have a license plate. Anything else?"

"I'm running facial recognition software, but with how well they covered their faces…" His expression was grim as he gave his head one sharp, telling shake.

Nodding, he ground his teeth. "Any word from the others?"

"Kirill checked in. He is bringing more footage from a laundromat outside the alley. He says that Nikki is talking to people but nobody can identify who was driving."

"Fine. Keep me updated. I want any news sent directly to me," he decided, before turning on his heel to leave. He paused near the door then and turned back. "Marat?"

He shifted in his seat to face Oliver, a brow raised.

"This Harper… Do we have anything on him?"

"He is relatively new. He has mostly been working under Anton, loading and unloading product."

"And he was given a job at Verdant?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Anton said there was an issue with Viktor. He's been… distracted lately. Always on the phone. So he offered Harper a chance."

Oliver nodded slowly and then tapped a hand against his leg. "I want everything you can find on him. And I want it before I leave for the gala. I don't care if you or Yosef do it, I just want it in my hands before I go. Understood?"

"_Da_."

"_Khorosho_."

Oliver stalked out of the room, intent on tracking down John and Slade to see what they'd dug up.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Sitting at the vanity in Raisa's bedroom, Felicity admired the various perfume bottles that lined the top. She reached out for one, a pale green in color, and unplugged the glass top, lifting it to her nose. Vanilla and orchid filled her senses. Not bad, but not her favorite. The one Raisa wore most often was the pale pink bottle that smelled like wild roses; _that_ was Felicity's favorite. Placing the bottle back down gently, she braided her fingers together atop the vanity and focused on the conversation at hand.

Felicity's eyes flicked up, catching Raisa's through the mirror. "She asked you to find him a suit? Really?"

"I think she is serious, about having this boy be her guard," Raisa answered, drawing a comb back through Felicity's hair carefully, her fingers moving between separate pieces as she tried to put together an idea of exactly how she wanted it styled. "Nikki said he is young. _Too _young."

Felicity snorted, brows raised. "Nikki doesn't like anyone. I don't think we should take his word as gospel."

"He has good instincts. And good intentions," she reminded, her tone faintly chastising.

"You're right. I know. It's just… I know Nikki. And sure, he probably thinks he's being careful, but I also know that he doesn't like outsiders. If he had it is way, the Bratva would be a family-only business, which, sure, sounds good, but it's a little idealistic."

"He misses home. He has adapted. It helps that he has Kirill. But Nikki is Russian through and through. He is skeptical, cynical, and too smart for his own good."

"I won't argue there."

"But… you are right. You cannot take Nikki's word for it. You should meet this _Roy_. See what your gut says, then you will know for certain."

Felicity looked up at Raisa thoughtfully. "Know what?"

"If he is _trustworthy_. If he can do this job. If…" She paused. "If he is _family_."

"That easy, huh? Just meet him and know?" She shook her head minutely, stopping as Raisa's fingers pressed for her to stay still.

"What did you tell me the first time you met Slade? Met John?"

Her mouth quirked slightly. "They were already Oliver's men by then…"

"Yes, but you knew, didn't you? You felt it when you saw them, you knew that they were going to be yours, they would be your family. Just like when you met Miss Thea and Miss Sara."

Felicity's mouth softened with a smile. "I did. You're right."

"_Da_." She nodded. "It is settled. You will meet Roy, and then you will know. And no more stressing about it."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and then let it out, staring herself in the eye through the reflection of the mirror. "What time will they be here?"

"An hour. Two at most," Raisa answered.

Two hours, and she would know if Roy Harper was friend or foe.

* * *

**…**

* * *

"You're fidgeting."

"I'm _not _fidgeting," Roy argued, frowning as he stared out the window.

Thea snorted. "Okay," she muttered, unconvinced. A pause followed before, "Is it my driving? My sister-in-law says I drive like a raccoon that spotted something shiny on the floor."

Roy blinked. "What does that even _mean?_"

"That I get distracted easily, I don't know. Sometimes she says things when she's nervous, she babbles, and it can be hard to keep up. Or understand." She shrugged. "You get used to it."

"Felicity Queen… _babbles?_" He frowned, trying to meld the sophisticated woman he'd seen in pictures and on magazines with the image Thea was painting.

"Sure. I mean, not really in public, she's gotten control of it, mostly. But sometimes, when she's stressed or freaked out, then it just kind of gets the best of her. It's cute. Or, well, at least my brother thinks so. He gets all goofy whenever she does it. Seriously. If I didn't love them both, I'd be _sickened _by them." She waved a hand around and Roy clenched his teeth on the desperate need to tell her to keep both her hands on the wheel. "Most disgustingly in love couple you'll ever meet, I swear."

"I'll keep that in mind," he muttered.

Rolling her eyes, she wondered, "Okay, _what_ is going on with you? You were perfectly fine earlier, when you were Hoovering half the contents of my fridge, shoved together in one sandwich…"

Yeah, he had been. He'd been admiring the view from her penthouse and considering sandwich number three when she'd waltzed downstairs looking, well, he wasn't the kind of guy who used words like 'breathless' but if he was, that was how she looked. But thinking along those lines could only get him into trouble, so he was trying desperately hard not to look at her too long, especially her legs, and she wasn't making it easy.

"Nothing. Just…" He shifted in his seat, "working on my 'tough-as-shit' face."

Her mouth curled up at the corners. "Okay then… Work away."

Truth be told, as much as she was distracting, he wasn't completely lying. He _was _working on his tough face, because sooner rather than later, he was going to be meeting some of the scariest men in Starling City. The kind of men who, if they so much as _considered _he might be a snitch, would probably dismember and dispose of him before Thea had a chance to introduce him. That wasn't small. In fact, it was huge, and he was having a lot more than just second thoughts about this whole snitching business. Sure, when Lance spun it, it sounded good. How could 4 million dollars not? But now that he was on his way to passing through the iron gates to hell and facing down the devil himself…? Well, now he was starting to think 4 mill wasn't enough.

Just as the thought solidified in his mind that he could _definitely_ jump out of a speeding car, book it to the train station, and never set foot in Starling City again, Thea took a turn down a long, winding, dirt road, lined with tall, stately looking trees, and led them straight up to the gates of Queen Manor.

Roy said a little prayer in his head and wondered if God might do a guy a favor after ignoring him for twenty-odd years.

When the gates opened instead of mysteriously becoming stuck, he decided that God had had abandoned him again, and likely always would.

"Will you chill?" Thea sighed. "You saved my life today. I hardly think they'll gun you down in the driveway."

Good point, he admitted silently.

Maybe just the foyer of the castle then…

* * *

**…**

* * *

Raisa moved through the lower half of the manor, the click of her heels following each step. She slid the sleeve of her cardigan up to check her watch as she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. Just as a tall, rail thin man moved past her, she paused, reaching across to squeeze his arm, getting his attention. "Pyotr, where is Maxim? He was sent to clean the cars and bring them back."

In Russian, Pyotr replied, "_Oliver has decided to drive himself. Miss Thea says she will do the same. The town cars have been detailed just in case. They are waiting outside. Maxim went to have Oliver's Lamborghini cleaned_."

Raisa shook her head, wagging a finger disagreeably. "_Nyet, nyet_. Felicity hates the Lamborghini. Too flashy. Have him come back, bring the Aston Martin in."

"_Konechno_."

Before he could leave, she added, "And tell Maxim he will be driving Miss Thea tonight. I will talk to her. After this afternoon, it is unsafe otherwise. You will accompany them on the drive, _ponyal_?"

He bowed his head respectfully. "_YA ponimayu._"

Just as he slipped away, the front door opened, and Raisa turned her attention forward, smiling as Thea stepped inside, a man just behind her.

"Hey!" Thea stepped further into the house, smiling warmly, and reaching for Raisa, whose arms opened immediately, drawing the young woman into a hug. Thea rested her head against Raisa's shoulder, whose cheek pressed atop her head. "I'm fine, honestly. I didn't even get hurt."

"_YA vse yeshche bespokoit'sya_," Raisa told her, giving her an extra squeeze. "Now. Who is this?"

"Oh. Right. _This_…" Thea stepped back a bit and turned, waving an arm back toward the sullen and stiff looking young man, "is Roy. He's the guy that saved me from a chest full of bullets. _So _not in season."

Raisa tisked. "You joke about serious things." She pressed an affectionate hand to Thea's cheek and then turned to appraise Ray, her pale blue eyes sweeping over him from head to toe. He stood especially still, leaned to one side, one of his hands balled up into a fist, and his face, so handsome, was trying desperately to seem unaffected by the situation. Addressing him, she asked, "_Vy novyy? Vy russkiy?_"

He blinked at her, and then glanced past her to Thea, an eyebrow raising.

Sighing, Raisa muttered, "_Bol'she amerikantsev_…" With a shake of her head, she held out a hand. "Welcome, Roy. And thank you for your aid in keeping Miss Thea alive and well. Now, I have been told that you will need a suit for tonight, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes." He squirmed a little. "Didn't exactly dress for a gala this morning."

Her mouth quirked at the corner. "No. I expect not." She turned on her heel, crooking a finger for him to follow. "Come. I think I have just the right thing. We will have you looking the part in no time."

Thea nodded agreeably and moved to follow, with Roy at her heels reluctantly.

"Sorry for the short notice," Thea said. "I know you've got a lot on your plate, so adding this on top of it sucks."

"I don't mind. I talked to the boys and they were generous in offering what they could. There is much to choose from and try on." She smirked at Roy over her shoulder. "I hope you have perfected your cat walk."

He snorted, but his mouth curved up faintly at the corners.

_Ah, he smiles_. And looked all the younger for it.

Raisa led them into one of the guest rooms, where numerous suit pieces were laid out on the bed, some matching, some not. Thea eagerly moved forward, quickly going through the pile to discard whatever she didn't like, while Roy lingered nearby, looking bored.

Amused, Raisa took a seat at a stool near the vanity, smoothing her hands over the legs of her pants. "Let us see what you like, Roy."

He glanced at her, nodded shortly, and then moved forward to look through the clothing. When he lingered on anything with a splash of red, only to have Thea discard every item, she knew it would be a long process.

* * *

**…**

* * *

Roy had never hated fashion so much in his life, but, currently, it appeared to be a necessary evil. After more than an hour of arguing with Thea over what piece went with what and which fit him better, he was finally dressed to the nines in a suit that probably cost more than his rent. But, he had to admit, it looked good, and he didn't stand out so much surrounded by the Bond knock-offs walking around the Queen Manor, the majority of whom were talking in Russian and side-eyeing him.

Raisa seemed nice enough. In the files Lance had given him, she'd been listed as head of staff, but from what Roy could tell, that wasn't what she was getting paid for, not when everything she was wearing screamed 'old money.' She was far too dignified and her hands were too smooth for her to be doing any kind of menial work. Given the accent, he figured she was originally from Russia and paperwork calling her head of staff had been mocked up to help keep her in the country. Why, he didn't know. Maybe she had deeper ties to the Bratva than he expected, or maybe the Queens treated their staff a lot better than he'd ever heard of.

Since Raisa had asked for a moment alone with Thea, Roy had wandered off to get a better look at the manor, but so far all he'd managed to do was get himself lost walking down a few corridors. Eventually, he was just glad to be back in the foyer, at least here he knew how to get outside, and back toward safety. Nobody had been outwardly aggressive toward him, but he felt like he was wearing a sign around his neck that singled him out as _wrong_. Like 'snitch' or 'rat' was written on him for all to see. He knew there was a good chance it was just nerves; he was in a new place where the majority of the people walking past him had no idea who he was. Of course they were going to stare. But he had a secret that could get him killed, and would if he ever let it loose.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus, to get his nerves under control, and checked the time on the watch Raisa had offered him, which was expensive enough to make him wince. Briefly, he considered how much he could hock it for, before common sense reminded him that he would be dead for even trying.

To distract himself, he turned his attention to the table sitting center in the foyer, dressed in various family photos. He turned one with the tip of his finger and found a small Thea Queen beaming up at him. She was young and innocent, her hair much longer and her face still holding the chubby cheeks of pre-adolescence. He briefly wondered if her life had always been surrounded by Bratva or if this was the calm before the storm.

He didn't have long to ponder this thought before a feminine voice interrupted his musings. "You don't look familiar."

Roy flinched before raising his head, only to tip it back further to see Felicity Queen coming down the stairs, the loose, sheer fabric of her dress dancing around her legs. He had a brief moment where thought exited his mind and left him blank. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her move, her shoulders back and her chin tilted high. He'd never seen someone look so regal before.

She offered a half-smile to him, her lips painted the same burgundy color as her dress. "Cat got your tongue?"

As she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, he shook his head, moving around the table to face her better. "Uh, no, sorry. I—I'm new. Kind of. I—I work for Thea now, I guess."

"Thea," she repeated. "You must be Roy then."

Shifting his feet, he nodded uncertainly. "Yeah. I… guess you heard what happened."

"News like that? It definitely gets around." She searched his face for a moment. "You were working with Roman, weren't you?"

"I was. In the morning. Uh, Anton sent me. I needed to make some extra cash." He winced; that didn't sound good, did it?

Felicity nodded. "I see."

Roy glanced away, feeling nervous, and wondered exactly how he should make his exit. Should he say something or wait for her to dismiss him, or…?

"So, bodyguarding, that must be different from working with Roman. He's more of a delivery guy. How are you liking it?" she wondered, before holding her clutch out for him to take. "Here. Hold that for a sec, my earring is coming out."

Roy obediently took the clutch from her, watching as she reached up, swiping a few stray hairs out of her way and fiddling with her dangling gold earring. Her hair was tied in a low bun with a braid that wrapped around it, leaving her face open. The picture Lance had of her really didn't do her justice; up close, she was stunning. Bright blue eyes, smiling pink lips, he thought he could even see freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know. It all happened kind of quickly. One minute I'm unloading crates, the next I'm ducking for cover… I guess that's the job I signed up for, but I wasn't really expecting it to happen," he admitted, realizing as soon as he said it just how true it was.

Felicity nodded, her other earring swinging with the movement. "And now? Are you expecting to get shot at again, Mister Harper?"

He glanced down, brow furrowed. "I don't want to. But… I'm not walking in blind, if that's what you're asking. I mean, I don't know Thea well, but I know my job. Keep her safe, keep her alive, do what I have to so she gets home at the end of the day. I can do that. I _will _do that."

She stared at him a long, thoughtful moment. "My husband doesn't think you're cut out for this." Before he could say anything, she hurried ahead, "Don't take it personally. We could have an entire team on Thea and he still wouldn't think it was enough. But, he has a point. One person isn't a lot of protection between her and a hail of bullets…"

He nodded, but stubbornly declared, "Thea said I could be trained. That I could learn how to be better."

"Not better. _More_," Felicity corrected. "You're young, and there's a lot to learn. But if you're willing to, if you really want to take on this job…"

"I do," he said firmly.

"Did she make that much of an impression or are you just really eager for a pay raise?" she asked, laughing a little even as her eyes were sharp. He got the sudden feeling that Mrs. Queen was often underestimated.

"From what I've seen, Thea's nice. She's funny and she's been good to me. I'm not gonna lie, I do need the money. But I also like the job. I don't want to be on the docks my whole life, breaking my back moving deliveries." He stood a little taller then. "Look, if I'm not the guy for the job, if I don't work out, if you don't think I can do this even after I've been trained, I'll step down. But I want a chance to prove I can."

Felicity hummed, and then reached forward to take her clutch back. "I like the sales pitch, very underdog wins the day." She smiled at him. "I'll talk to Oliver, but I don't make any guarantees."

She stepped past him, stopping as he quickly said, "You're going to talk to him? For me?" His tone was just short of incredulous.

Turning back to face him, her head tipped a little to the side. "Everybody needs a little support sometimes. And I like you, Roy. You're real. I've spent a lot of time around a lot of very fake people. I don't like being lied to and I don't like it when people try to be something they aren't. So if you want this chance, yes, I can support you in doing it." She reached forward then and readjusted his red tie. "But, make no mistake, if you fail, if at any point you put yourself before Thea, if I think for one second that you can't keep her safe… You're _done_."

The finality of the word, the weight of what she's said, was so sincere that he felt a pit well up in his stomach. For all that Felicity Queen looked soft and sweet, her oddly regal bearing, fitting with her last name, became all too obvious then. He had no problem seeing her at her husband's side, just as revered as him, never cowering under the weight of the Bratva title and all that it entailed.

"I understand," he said, his voice a little more subdued.

"Good. I'm glad." She smiled then, her face softening once more. "Hopefully you stick around then. We have a sort of revolving door of people around here."

"I don't plan to be that, ma'am."

A tiny laugh escaped from the back of her throat. "Did you hear that, Oliver? I've been ma'am'd."

Roy stiffened, his eyes cutting to the right as Oliver Queen himself stepped out of the hallway. Up close and personal, he was bigger than Roy expected.

Nodding at his wife, Queen stepping up next to her, his hand at the small of her back. "I heard." He kissed her cheek. "_Vy vyglyadet' snogsshibatel'no_."

Hooking a finger on the lapel of his jacket, she gave it a tug. "Thank you."

Arching a brow at Roy, Queen asked, "Who's this?"

"_This _is Roy. Which we will talk about later. Because right now, we're just about late."

Oliver's jaw flexed, but he gave a quick, short nod. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his hand sweeping over her back before reaching up to gently squeeze her shoulder.

Her eyes fell to half-mast at his show of affection. "Mm-hmm. Is Digg driving us in tonight?"

"Uh, no. I had Maxim get one of the cars."

Felicity's nose wrinkled. "Please, not the Lamborghini..."

Queen's smile was slow. "What exactly do you have against my favorite car?"

"Uh, everything!" She started ticking off reasons on her hand. "It's ugly, it's flashy, it's a _terrible _color—"

"What's wrong with green?"

"Nothing. Except the shade your car is. In that case, _everything_."

He laughed under his breath. "Any other reasons?"

"The seats aren't as comfortable as you seem to think they are."

"Arguable," he said.

"There's no backseat, Oliver."

"We don't _need_ a backseat. We're the only two people in the car," he reminded.

"I definitely need a backseat to lay down in when you make me car sick driving like a maniac."

He scoffed. "Is this about the car or my driving?"

She shrugged. "A little of both."

A cleared throat drew their attention and Roy turned to see John Diggle, who somehow made Oliver Queen's size look average in comparison. Diggle's impressive resume came to mind and, not for the first time, Roy felt out of his depth. He stood no chance against these people and, if they ever discovered he was a rat, he was sure he'd be killed with little effort. And then Lance would no doubt find some other schmuck to take up his mission.

"Car's outside." Diggle nodded his head toward the door. "The Aston, not the Lambo," he informed Felicity knowingly.

While she fist-pumped, Oliver merely half-smiled at her.

"Slade and I will be following behind you," Diggle continued. "Sara called ahead; she's already there and doing a sweep on the hall. And I checked in with Maxim; he and Pyotr will be driving Thea in."

"Great." Felicity beamed. Hooking her arm with her husband's, she hustled him forward, toward the door. Before she stepped outside, she turned back to say, "Nice meeting you, Roy."

"Uh, you too. Ma'am."

Her nose wrinkled a little with amusement at him and then she walked away, towing Queen along with her, Diggle keeping pace beside them.

Roy watched them until the door closed, and then Thea came walking into the room, her heels clicking loudly. "Hey. You ready?" she asked.

He nodded at her and moved ahead to open the door for her to step outside. She winked reassuringly as she stepped past him and Roy took a deep breath before following her out.

Later, he would look back on that day, and know that it was the real beginning. That everything that happened, everyone he met, it was all the first step toward the end.

[**Next**: Chapter Three.]

* * *

**Translate**:

_Konechno_. – [**Russian**] – Of course. (Marat to Felicity; used various other times)

_Spasibo_ – [**Russian**] – Thank you. (Felicity to Kirill)

_Khorosho_. – [**Russian**] – Good. (Kirill to Thea; Oliver to Marat)

_On molod. Malen'kiy mal'chik. Yedva iz pelenok. _– [**Russian**] – He is young. Little boy. Barely out of diapers. (Nikki to Kirill about Roy)  
_My vse kogda-to byli_. – [**Russian**] – We all were once. (Kirill to Nikki)

_Eto bezumiye._ – [**Russian**] – This is crazy. (Nikki)_  
Vozmozhno_. – [**Russian**] – Perhaps. (Kirill to Nikki)

_Printsessa_. – [**Russian**] – Princess. (Nikki to Thea)

_Nyet, nyet_ – [**Russian**] – No, no. (Raisa to Pyotr)  
_Ponyal?_ – [**Russian**] – Got it? (Raisa to Pyotr)  
_YA ponimayu_. – [**Russian**] – I understand. (Pyotr to Raisa)

_YA vse yeshche bespokoit'sya_. – [**Russian**] – I still worry. (Raisa to Thea)

_Vy novyy? Vy russkiy?_ – [**Russian**] – You are new. Are you Russian? (Raisa to Roy)

_Bol'she amerikantsev_… - [**Russian**] – More Americans… (Raisa)

_Vy vyglyadet' snogsshibatel'no_. – [**Russian**] – You look stunning. (Oliver to Felicity)

* * *

**author's note**: _I'm so sorry this took so long. I've just been distracted with school and moving and I had a back injury that made focusing on writing basically hell. But I'm glad to finally put this up, as it's been percolating in my head for entirely too long. I know a lot of people want to hear about when Olicity first met, and you will, I promise, but I did try to put more Olicity in this chapter to make up for a lack of history. Next chapter is the gala, where you get to see Tommy and Laurel, and where a revenge plot begins to unfold a little more._

_For visual aids, I have everyone's outfit on my Polyvore (**sarcasticfina**), and if you want to__ see my character page (with attached photos) for reference, check my Tumblr (**sarcasticfina**); just click on _**+More**_ and there's a link (_**Olicity Bratva AU**_) that will show you everyone who will be playing a part in this story. It will be updated as we go as new faces come in and take on bigger roles. _

_Thank you all so, so much for your support! I really appreciate every review I've received, and I'm so encouraged by your interest in this story. Please know that I'm completely aware that many of you are wondering about my other Olicity stories, but they are on hold until I finish this one, as it was originally started in order to get my muse back and going for this ship. So updates are coming, but I have no guaranteed date for when, so please don't ask, as I have no answer. _

_Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review; they're my life blood!_

_\- _**Lee | Fina**


End file.
